The ABC'S OF CSI III: Cold, Snow and Ice!
by danceoftheheart
Summary: Fluff, fluff and more fluff. Oh and a little romance tossed in for fun. This series takes up directly where the Jungle Series left off. Gil and Sara are on their way to colder climbs. How will they keep warm? Stay tuned…
1. A is for Accoutrements

The ABC's of CSI: Book III: Adventures in Cold, Snow, and Ice

A/N: Fluff, fluff and more fluff. Oh and a little romance tossed in for fun. This series takes up directly where the Jungle Series left off. Gil and Sara are on their way to colder climbs. How will they keep warm? Stay tuned…

A is for Accoutrements

"Strange."

"What?"

"I'm unpacking bikini tops and replacing them with thermal underwear and arctic approved socks!"

Gil reached over from his packing and picked up one of the tops from my pile. "This new?"

"What?"

He held up a sexy scrap of a bra top.

"Oh. Yes."

"Why don't I remember it?"

"Because I didn't wear it."

"Why? I like it."

I grinned. "Well, I like it too but I thought it was a little too revealing to wear around camp."

"Afraid the geeks would go wild, huh?"

I nodded. "And since I'm only interested in one geek that could create a problem."

"Hmmm. I see." A wicked smile played across his face. "What say we pack it for this trip?"

"No, it'll be too cold to wear it," I teased.

"I'll keep you warm."

"And, I'm not sure I have room."

"That's alright," Gil said, with a smirk and very carefully, very deliberately, folded the tiny top into a nice neat shape. Then, with great ceremony, he slipped it into his suitcase and zipped the zip. "I do."


	2. B is for Bikinis

B is for Bikini

"Howdy folks. Looks like we're getting pretty close now to our destination. We just checked in with the tower at Resolute Bay Airport and have been told the weather is currently clear for our approach. With any luck those conditions will hold until we're safely on the ground. However, those of you who have flown with us before know that the weather has a nasty habit of changing when you least expect it so…should that turn out to be the case this morning I want to reassure all passengers that we have an alternate landing site lined up for just that situation. We'd like everyone to take this opportunity to begin their preflight clean-up and prepare to disembark."

I blinked. "Well, that was one of the most bizarre announcements I've ever heard."

"You haven't flown this far north before, have you?" Gil asked.

I shook my head. "I was in Toronto once. For a physics competition. This is definitely a new experience for me."

"Any regrets?"

"Hell no. I'm just a little curious about the update, that's all." I looked around the small cabin, noticing that the few people sharing the flight with us were indeed packing up their gear and securing their items. "Have you?" I asked.

Gil had gone back to reading a science article and was only half listening to what I said. "What?"

I nudged him. "Been this far north before."

"Oh. Yes."

I waited for more but when he didn't deliver, I pressed, "When?"

"When…what?"

"Never mind," I huffed, knowing him well enough that if I didn't let him finish his article, he'd be next to useless to have a conversation with.

Ten minutes later we heard the following announcement. "Sorry folks, Mother Nature has just pulled a fast one on us. Looks like we're in for a tough one. Winds have picked up so we're going to get a little turbulence on the approach. For those newbies among us, it's going to get very rough but we've been flying these skies for many years and you're in very good hands. The main issue at the moment is the ice fog. If you look out your window, you'll see a heavy bank of clouds. Right under that is a fairly decent sized layer of ice fog. Visibility is difficult but the tower says there are some patches of clarity. We're going to make an attempt to land but don't be surprised if we pull up again. Sometimes it takes a couple of attempts in conditions like this to make it to the ground. I'll keep you posted."

"Great. That's just great." I tightened my seatbelt ruthlessly and slumped back into my seat with my arms folded.

"Don't let what he said bother you," my husband said as he put away his magazine, took off his glasses and mimicked my actions. "They like to prepare you for the worst case scenarios up here to keep the panic down."

"People panic often, do they?" I asked tensely.

Gil shrugged. "New experiences can be a little…um…challenging for some people. Not everyone is into extreme sports and high speed driving…like _you_." There was a little bite to that last part.

"That's nice. I'm worried and you're teasing. Perfect."

"I'm sorry. I've never seen you like this. It's not like we're dealing with _bats_."

Wow. That was low. The nerve of him bringing up those horrible little monsters at a time like this! "Keep it up, bugman, and it'll be the last you'll see of me for six months."

"Easy, Sara. I'm sorry. I'm just trying to get you to relax."

"Newsflash. It isn't working."

"Look, we'll probably get some turbulence and some wind gusts. It'll feel a little like being on a high speed rollercoaster. Nothing to be scared about."

"I'm not scared," I told him shortly. "I'm concerned."

"Honey, if you get any more 'concerned' I'm going to have puncture wounds in my leg from where your nails are digging in." He looked down pointedly, and I let my gaze follow. Sure enough, there was my hand, braced on his thigh, holding on for dear life. I hadn't even realized I'd been doing it. He grabbed my hand and gave it a kiss. "Ignore it, Sara. We'll be on the ground in no time."

"No doubt, but will we be in one piece?"

He chuckled evilly. "Odds are some of us will be."

"That's so not funny." God, I almost whined that at him. I had to get a grip!

He leaned in closely and whispered in my ear. "Look around, Sara. Does anyone else here look concerned?"

My eyes scanned the interior of the craft. "No. Everyone else looks just fine." The children, airline staff and all of the other passengers were simply going about their business and seemed quite comfortable about the process.

"Then take the captain's comments in the context they were meant and trust them to get us safely back on the ground." He slid a soft kiss over my cheek and I shivered as it danced along my skin. "Besides, no matter how nervous it made you, aren't you glad that you got a head's up on what to expect so you weren't frightened more if and when things got rough?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"'Forewarned is forearmed.'"

_And that put things neatly into perspective in his world_, I thought dryly, giving his hand a squeeze in return. He was right. I was letting my nerves get the best of me. I'd faced down armed criminals, sky diving, rock climbing…so whatever problems we were up against here were bound to pale in comparison. I searched for another topic of conversation. When I found one, my smile turned just a little bit wicked. Time to give Gil a little payback for all of that teasing. "Oh, by the way, when I weighed your suitcase at home, I found out you were over the limit so I had to take a couple of things out."

His eyes flew to mine. "And you're only telling me this now?"

I blinked…all innocence. "I didn't think you'd mind. Wasn't anything really _important_."

"Don't you think I should be the judge of that?"

"Well, yes, of course but the taxi was there and we were rushed getting Bruno to the sitter…well, I had just enough time to take care of it . I guess I forgot to mention it afterwards."

"What did you take out?"

"Some of your underwear…but I repacked all of that in mine."

"Oh. Okay. Anything else."

"Yes. A few of the notebooks and files but before you say anything, Catherine's sending that box of supplies from the lab this week and I called to make sure she included the extras in the delivery. She said she'd swoop by the condo and grab them tomorrow. There's still enough in there to do you for a few weeks I'm sure. Again, it's not much because I shifted what I could to my bag first."

"I can't believe I was that much over the limit."

"Gil, your suitcase was so heavy I could barely lift it off the bed. I knew something was wrong as soon as I tried. Now, let me think…was that it? Hmmm. Oh, wait, there was one more thing."

"Yes?"

"That um, bikini top you slipped into your case. Remember…the new one I hadn't had a chance to wear yet?"

"You took that out? Why?"

"It just looked like something you didn't need and I told you I was fighting with the baggage restrictions so-"

"But that couldn't have weighed much at all. I can hardly see what difference it would have made-"

"Oh believe me, I was surprised. When I took it out you came in just under the limit. Honestly, Gil, I thought you would have been pleased. By taking it out I managed to include an extra notepad and really isn't that a lot more important that a silly swim suit?" My mouth twitched. Damn. Hope he didn't catch that.

"Hmmmph. I suppose so…I just don't see…wait a minute, you're putting me on, right? It's still in my case, isn't it?"

He did catch it. Damn. I tried to bluff it out. I looked down, shaking my head. "Sorry."

"Then you repacked it in yours, right?"

Again I shook my head, praying I could keep a straight face. Poor Gil, he looked so disappointed. Served him right for giving me such a hard time earlier. "By the time I took the other stuff from your case I was at my limit too. Sorry, I couldn't pack it either."

"Oh. All right then." He looked away and though he wasn't quite pouting, he certainly wasn't too happy.

I couldn't stand it. It was supposed to be a joke but now I just felt bad. I decided to let him off the hook. "You know, I was worried you were going to be mad at me."

"I'm not mad. I'm just-look, it's fine."

"No. No, it's not. When I couldn't get it the suitcases, I knew you'd be upset so I figured I should probably wear it just in case."

"What?"

"I said, 'I should probably wear it-'"

"Now I know you're putting me on."

I shook my head and pulled back the shoulder of my shirt. "See?"

And see he did. The strap against my skin obviously belonged to that little bikini top and Gil leaned in and nipped my shoulder through the slinky fabric. "I think I love you, Sara (kiss) Sidle (kiss) Grissom (kiss)."

I pulled back. "'Think?'"

"Well, I'm pretty certain anyway." He smushed a sloppy, very noisy, kiss into my shoulder and I wrinkled my nose at him.

"Well, that's good, because I've got a hunch that I'm in love with you too."

"Then I guess it was a pretty good thing that we got married before jumping on the plane and heading north."

"Yeah. Guess it was. Strange place for a honeymoon isn't it?" I held up my ring and we both took a second to admire it. "You realize, we're going to have to face a lot of pissed off people when we get back to Vegas in six months. Catherine and Brass especially will not take kindly to being left out of the loop."

"I'll email them," Gil said, apparently not that concerned.

I choked, thinking of the reactions of said people clicking on their inboxes and seeing something like that without any warning. "Yeah, okay, you do that. Just don't mention me in the process."

"Going to be hard to avoid it."

"I am not taking the rap for this one. This was all your doing."

"You agreed to it."

"Yes…I did…to the marriage…but not to the means in which we accomplished it."

"Fine time to object now."

"Gil, I objected…strenuously, I might add…at the time…over and over…but you…well, you were so cute and sweet and insistent that I-I…ah, hell, when have I ever been able to say no to you?" I stroked his jaw lovingly. "You and those damn glasses. What woman in her right mind could resist?"

His expression turned almost gleeful. "I wondered what had turned the tide."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't play innocent with me. You know my weakness for those glasses intimately. This isn't the first time you've used it against me."

He pulled his frames from his shirt pocket and slid them into place. "My glasses? You have a weakness for my glasses?"

"Gil-"

"And just what would that weakness entail?"

I sighed. "You could get me to agree to…just about anything…and you know it."

"Anything?"

"Mmmmhmmm. Just about." He opened his mouth to add something and I held up a finger in warning. "Careful. We still have a good two hours or so before we'll get any privacy. Don't start something now that you can't finish."

But he didn't heed my warning. Instead, very surreptitiously, very slowly, he kissed one of his fingers and then drew it down my cheek…down my neck…and let it disappear into the valley of my breasts. I flushed with heat and licked my lips. "Don't worry, I'll be alright," he said, enjoying the shiver that raced across my skin.

So, my husband was in the mood to play, was he? Fine by me, I decided. I leaned in and whispered something very explicit…very dangerous…into his ear, then sat back and waited for the reaction to set in.

For a moment, Gil sat very still, swallowing hard as his brain filtered my words, then he turned to me with a feral smirk and said, "Oh, you are in so much trouble when we get to our room."

I giggled outright. "God, I hope so!" I would have continued that comment but the place began to dip and it was obvious from our change in altitude that we were preparing to land.

_A/N: For the 'bat' reference check out 'M' in the original ABC series._


	3. C is for Crash

_C is for Crash_

"They just said they can't see the runway."

"Sara-"

"That there's too much ice fog."

"I thought you were a good flyer."

I didn't even bother looking at him. "Flying doesn't bother me, Gil. Crashing on the other hand…"

"We're not going to crash."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"And what makes you think you're in control here?"

"My overwhelmingly confident male ego."

I sputtered…something between and laugh and a choke. "What?"

"And the power of positive thought!"

"And you think that's going to do it?"

"Got you to marry me didn't it?" His blue eyes danced, daring me to contradict him and as I stared into those handsome, passion-filled orbs I realized I couldn't.

"You have a point," I whispered, leaning into to kiss his cheek. At the last moment, he tilted his head and my lips meet his. Sweetly and tenderly, our lips moved against each other…making my stomach flutter in soft swells of desire and pleasure. His lips lingered on mine and I tasted tomorrows on his tongue.

The earth moved…literally moved! Well, okay, so actually the plane shook from the turbulence we were experiencing and we were in mid-air not really on terra firma, but you get the idea. Anyway, I sank into the experience, milking it for everything I could and while it's true that I did feel the plane touch down, I was pleasantly distracted so it almost didn't register. Almost.

When the noises of disembarking passengers and frankly, the lack of oxygen finally forced us to part, I dropped my forehead onto his chest and chuckled softly. "Looks like you're on a roll, Dr. Grissom. Shame we're not in Vegas. I bet you'd have a pile of chips sky high if you were willing to test your luck at the tables."

Gil shook his head. "I'd lose my shirt."

"How so?"

"You know the old saying, 'Lucky in love…unlucky at cards.' Can't be both and I know Fortune's favor has found my heart."


	4. D is for Decisions

_D is for Decisions_

"Gil, have you seen my gloves?"

"They're here on the desk. Why?"

"I have to go to the store."

"Really? What for?"

"We're out of chocolate," I mumbled…quite deliberately, I might add.

"Excuse me?"

"We're out of chocolate," I replied in a normal tone which earned me a rather strange look.

"Oh," he said, "I thought is was something important."

"If you were a woman, you wouldn't make a statement like that. Especially at this time of the month." PMS wasn't usually a concern for me but the change in climate, exercise habits and diet were definitely having an effect on my temper and my stress management skills. I was in desperate need for a chocolate pick-me-up.

From his place in an easy chair that was seated oh-so-perfectly next to a blazing fire, Gil looked up from his book and vowed, "Woman or not, nothing would entice me to make a hike to the store in this."

"It's not that bad."

"It's minus four out there-"

"We're in Canada, Gil. Technically, it's closer to minus twenty on the Celsius scale."

"The wind chill has got to be at least minus 13-"

"Again, we're in Canada. I think the wind chill is spiking at minus 23 Celsius…or at least that's what the radio was saying a few minutes ago. Doesn't matter."

"It's a blizzard, Sara." When he saw that his objections were having little effect, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and stared at me in disbelief. "You're ridiculous."

"Again, if you were a woman…" I wrapped a thick scarf around my neck and head. "There, that should do it."

He sighed, and climbed out of the chair. "Okay. Okay, I'll start the car."

"No, Gil, you don't have to do that. I'm fine. It's only a fifteen minute walk."

"Each way," he shot back.

"Well, yes, but I'll warm up in the store," I countered. "It's really not that bad. And I could use the fresh air. We've been cooped up in here all day. Hey…wanna come with me? My treat."

"No, thanks. Got your cell?"

"Yep." I patted the front pocket of my snowsuit. "Do you need anything?"

He came closer, grinning evilly and whispered in my ear.

"Ahem…well…I'm not sure I can find that at the store."

Gil chuckled. "No, I'm sure you couldn't…well, maybe in Vegas but certainly not here." He waited, that sly smile on his face while his suggestion circled around in my head and made my insides melt. "Well, you know, if you're not interested…"

I flopped back against the door, arms akimbo. "You're a rat, you know."

"Yep," he agreed, unwrapping my scarf from my head and plucking my gloves from my hands.

"Capital 'R', 'A', 'T'" I growled back, my hands finding his hair as his hands found my zipper. He split the teeth of my thermal suit, letting his lips chase the movement of his fingers until he peeled me from the coverall…and the three layers of clothing I'd worn beneath it.

"You're really making me work at this, Sar-" he moaned into my neck as he pulled off the last insulating shirt.

"You're complaining?"

"Nope. Not. Sorry." He ducked so I could help him out of his sweater and then rid himself of his shirt while I worked on his jeans. We wove our way through our tiny living area to the bedroom just beyond and I was suddenly very grateful that we sublet the house we were currently in rather than residing on the base through our stay. It was nice to have the privacy the little cottage provided us newlyweds in the middle of the afternoon. It was especially nice to have walls thicker than tent screen to…ahem…muffle those little noises a domestic couple like us could…ah…make in the middle of the afternoon.

And make them we did.

Many…many…glorious minutes later as we lay wrapped snuggly in each other's embrace, I felt Gil reach above our heads to a shelf inset in the headboard of our bed. I snickered, hunkering down farther under our thick comforter. "A little late to be reaching for protection now, Gil," I drawled, pleasantly exhausted from our little romp.

"I agree, but that isn't what I was reaching for. Here." He passed me a foil wrapped slab of chocolate which I was delighted to find out was a Swiss milk chocolate bar…the kind that was so soft and creamy that it melted the second it hit your tongue. It was my favorite kind of chocolate in the world! Needless to say, I was ecstatic. "I didn't know the store carried these!" I told him, eagerly peeling off the wrapper. I popped a square of the sweet treat into my mouth and groaned, absolutely beside myself with pleasure. "Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you!" I smacked a humongous kiss into his cheek with such force that I knocked him flat.

"You're welcome, and they don't," Gil told me, grinning at my antics. His arms locked around my back holding me comfortably against his chest.

"Then how…?"

"Magic," he returned.

"Yeah, right. Give." When he shook his head, I leaned in, serving him my most intimidating look. "I know they weren't in your suitcase. I would have seen them when I re-packed."

"You're right, they weren't."

I frowned, thinking back over the last couple of days. "Oh…wait, they must have been in the package Catherine sent but I would have seen them…" I paused, doing a mental inventory. "Wouldn't I? I mean, I helped you open every parcel…except…Oh You RAT!" My fingers found that sensitive spot under his ribs and tickled him mercilessly. "You miserable…WONDERFUL…RAT! Live maggots, my ass!"

"Greg…got a…kick…out…of helping me…with that…part!" he gasped, before rolling us both over to gain a little control. "Be nice or I won't tell you where the rest of the stash is." He settled deeper between my thighs and his tongue slid seductively past my lips. "Mmmmm…you taste good."

"Thanks to you," I whispered back. I reached for the nightstand and put the chocolate bar on its surface then turned back to him. "That was very thoughtful, Gil. A really, wonderful surprise. I'll have to think of some way to thank you properly." I looped my arms around his neck and drew his head down until our lips were almost touching then I smiled wickedly. "Ohhhh…wait, I think I have an idea…"


	5. E is for Eutrapely

_E is for Eutrapely_

"Okay, wait, you've got to be kidding me."

"What?"

"'Eutrapely'?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Never heard of it."

"Oh, that's too bad. Look at that. Triple score. Excellent."

"Wait a minute. You can't take those points. I'm not conceding this word."

"Why not?" he asked with a sly flick of his eyes.

I propped my chin on my hand and stared him down. "Don't play games with me-"

He lifted the tiny blue velvet sac and shook it so that the wooden tiles clattered against each other. "I thought that was exactly what I was doing-"

"Smartass. I thought the whole point of our little matchup was to play this game the 'normal' way which means we're restricted to the confines of the English language and one set of tiles."

He sat back in his chair, swinging the little blue sac around his pointer finger as he did so. "I take it you have a problem with my last play?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, especially since it's a word that doesn't exist."

"Sure it does."

"Not in the latest edition of _Webster's'_ it doesn't."

"Since when have we ever confined ourselves to the standard dictionary?"

"That is entirely beside the point-"

He barked a laugh. "In what universe is that beside the point-?"

"-but I suppose what I should have said is that it doesn't exist period," I continued, ignoring his interruption all together.

"No, not true." He practically sang that at me and I knew then and there that I'd been set up to lose from the first draw.

"Really."

"Yes, really."

"How come I've never heard of it?"

"It's an older word, not commonly used now, but it was at one time."

"Definition?"

"Eutrapely: Aristotle's word for pleasantness in conversation: wit, repartee; liveliness; urbanity in conversation. It's said to be one of the seven moral virtues that Aristotle enumerated. In the New Testament this word was used to mean 'reprehensible levity of speech'. Want me to use it in a sentence?"

"No. I can see that that would be a waste of breath." I had to giggle. He looked so damn cute in those glasses with that challenging smirk on his face. "Oh, Gil, I know I've been on a bit of a streak lately, but really, I never thought you'd resort to cheating to win a silly little word game."

He looked so-ooo offended! "It's not cheating. The word is genuine."

"I'm sure that in some weird word-origins text that it is but the fact that you were able to pull that definition up so easily…well, it would make anyone suspicious, now wouldn't it?" He wisely refrained from answer that little jab. "You know, this is the third time this evening we've ended up debating a word."

"Yes, I know." There was that wicked grin again.

"Hmmm, don't you sound smug?"

"Do I?" he asked as he pulled new tiles from the velvet sac to replace the few he'd used.

"And more than a little proud of how you've outmaneuvered me. You've really outplayed me tonight."

He shrugged, arranging his new tiles on his playing stand. "I think I'm due, especially since, for the first time this week, I've got you by almost a forty point spread." He tapped the pad deliberately in emphasis.

"A fact that has not escaped my notice," I returned dryly. "If I didn't know better, I'd be forced to come to the conclusion that you've actually gone as far as to memorize some legal, but extremely obscure words in advance to orchestrate just such a situation as the one we currently find ourselves in but I do know better, don't I? I mean, that kind of pre-game preparation would seem a little oh, um, how do I put this? Hmmm? Obsessive? Pitiable?"

His face took on a hunter's grimace. "Listen closely, my dear. When one is playing a word game against an opponent who practically has the entire Webster's Dictionary memorized word for word, and probably Oxford and Cambridge as well for all I know, one tends to resort to strategy in order to gain an advantage."

My mouth did a rather impressive carp imitation but I managed to answer, "My memory's good, but you're exaggerating just a little bit, don't you think?"

He slapped a hand down on the paperback dictionary we always kept handy and opened it to a page at random. "On what page would I find the following words: microburn, microfication, minimalist, and minionette?" When I stared back at him mutely, he prodded, "You know, don't you? You actually know the page number."

"Yes. Oh god! I didn't even know I did but I do! I'm such a freak!" I dropped my head into my hands and laughed till my stomach hurt.

He tossed the book over his shoulder, laughing just as hard. "How the hell am I supposed to compete with that?"

"I guess by being the cunning and super sneaky genius you are." I wriggled my finger and he obligingly bent closer. "In lieu of the fact that we've got very few tiles left and it's highly doubtful I'll be able to make up that point spread this late in the game, whatsay I surrender this round to you and we engage in an activity where we're a little more evenly matched?"

"Would this be an unconditional surrender?" he asked, daring me to answer.

I pretended to think about it…for all of ten seconds. "Yes," I replied softly, running my foot up the length of his leg. "'To the victor, the spoils…' and all that. Do you accept?"

He nodded slowly, his hand capturing mine to place a languid, earthy kiss in the heart of my palm. "Only a fool wouldn't, and I'm no fool."

"I didn't think so." I gently withdrew my hand and stood up, supposedly to stretch after sitting for such a long time, but truthfully to tease knowing he'd be watching my every move. "Glad we got that sorted out. Now all we have to do is see if you're fast enough to take advantage of your win." And with that I took off for our bedroom at full speed.

He caught up with me just as I was about to close the door and tackled me to the bed. "You let me win," he said in a breathless accusation as he peppered my skin with fluttery kisses.

It was my turn to be smug. "Ya, I did. Any complaints?"

He paused, his eyes sliding over my form possessively. "Like I said, I'm no fool." His hand slid slowly up my leg and found its way under the silken sheath of my nightie to cup me intimately. My breath shuddered and caught as his fingers played against the intensely sensitive folds of my skin. I writhed against the cool of the linens and his eyes gleamed as he drank in my helpless response.

I pulled him closer for a kiss, thrilling in the taste and feel of him against my skin. "I don't know, Gil," I murmured into his neck as he settled more deeply between my legs. "Sometimes I wonder how bright either of us really are."

He pulled back, eyeing me suspiciously. "Why do you say that?"

I combed my fingers through his hair and then cupping his chin arched up to give him another sultry…slightly needy…kiss. "Hmmm…because only a couple of fools would waste so much time playing silly word games when they could be doing this."

His answering smile was quick and wolfish as he swooped down and did his best to prove my point.


	6. F is for Festivity

The ABC's of CSI: Book III

Cold, Snow and Ice

F is for Festivity

"You want to go now?"

"Well, yes. I mean, it's a perfect time, isn't it? You're at a good stopping place in your research…so am I. We can't go any further until we get our scheduled lab time tomorrow afternoon. It's a nice day..."

Gil barked a laugh at that last bit. "Sara, your definition of a 'nice day' might need a little adjustment." He gestured to the light…um…blizzard conditions we were currently getting a taste of outside our window.

"I knew I was pushing with that last bit…but come on, indulge me. If we actually wait for a 'nice' day to do this we may miss Christmas all together." I let my fingers walk up his chest to his cheek and gave him a flirty, yet sincere, caress. "I didn't get to do this last year and Christmas in the Jungle just wasn't the same. No snow, no lights…I mean it's bad enough in Vegas but last year was extreme. I can't tell you how homesick I was for my college days at Harvard."

"Ah," he said, wrapping his arms around my waist and drawing me into his body. "So you're to blame for the snow."

I shrugged. "You have to realize the one benefit to this whole set up is snuggling up with you in front of the fire while the elements rage outside. And I want to bake some cookies and buy some ornaments to trim the tree. Hell, I want to buy a _tree_." His chest started to shake a bit and I slapped him (not so gently) on the shoulder. "Don't laugh at me. That isn't nice."

He shook harder but swooped in for an apologetic kiss. I let him lock lips with me for a moment but when we parted, I leveled him with a look. The beast rolled his eyes and let me go, throwing his hands up in surrender for good measure. "Fine. Fine. Let's go," he said with a long drawn out sigh.

I stood there for a moment, considering his tone and then shook my head. "No, never mind. I can see that you're not in the mood and I don't want to be in the position of forcing you to go. It wouldn't be any fun."

"I was kidding-"

"No, you weren't. Or at least not completely. It's okay. You do whatever you wanted to do. We can put this off but I think I will go get what I need for some baking. There's still plenty of day left for me to get into that."

"Sara-"

"Now where did I put those keys….oh!" I didn't make it more than a couple of steps before I was caught up and caught close.

"I was playing and so are you. If you want to go, we'll go. It might do us good to get out for a couple of hours."

I was caught but I wasn't convinced. "You'll enjoy it?"

"Yes."

"And you won't be all grumpy and rushed?"

"Yes."

"Because I don't want to go if-"

"Sara!" he growled, exasperated. "I want to go. I'm _willing_ to go but I won't be if-"

"Okay. Okay, sorry. Let me grab my coat." I hustled out of the room before he could change his mind.

* * * *

Since our shopping choices consisted primarily of the Tadjaat Co-op and the airport gift shop, our trip really didn't take that long. Still, it was nice to get out and greet some of our neighbors, check in with the clerks about the local news and just be part of society for a short while. Between the weather conditions, and the fact that the local populace consisted primarily of about 300 people (give or take a few scientists), it was far too easy to allow oneself to become isolated if one wasn't careful. Gil and I made a point of stopping in at the Qausuittuq Inns North once a week to have dinner and socialize, and of course we made use of the gym and the labs but for the most part we were pretty self reliant. We both liked to read and research took up quite a bit of our day so we didn't really need much outside our little nest. Being Newlyweds I suppose we craved the privacy as much as anyone but that didn't mean it was wise for us to give in to that craving to the exclusion of all else.

We'd managed to get everything on our list and a few surprises as well so it took us three trips each in and out of the car to get it all inside. "Gil, if you want to start setting up the tree and the lights, I'll unpack the groceries and get the first batch of cookies ready."

"Yes, dear," Gil replied with a voice that practically sang obviously a little more in the spirit of things than he'd been before we'd left. The trip had been fun and Gil was in a particularly good mood seeing as his parcel from the Vegas lab had arrived at the post office this morning. "Just let me get a fire going in here first."

"Mmmm. Sounds good. Wine?"

"Yes, I'd like a glass."

"Red or white?"

"We're having fish for dinner, right?"

"Well, you are. I'm having a veggie patty." Gil grimaced at my choice and to be honest, I couldn't blame him. Vegetarian cuisin e was extremely limited in our only supermarket and frankly, the choices weren't that good to begin with but one couldn't be fussy if one wanted to eat. Frankly, I'd had enough pasta and lentils in the last couple of days to do me for a while. I needed a change. "Red or white?" I repeated, holding the two bottles aloft.

"White, please," he said absently, studying the instructions that came with the tree stand. "Music?"

"Of course." I passed him a glass half full of a golden white and then went back to my baking preparations. "What would be a tree trimming without some holiday tunes."

We went about our perspective tasks, belting out the notes of whatever song came over the laptop speakers, and it wasn't long before I was able to join Gil in the living room. He was just finishing with the last of the lights as I perched on the edge of the sofa. I studied contentedly as he made the final adjustments.

He looked up and took an appreciate sniff. "Gingerbread?"

I swallowed the sip of wine that I'd taken and nodded. "Hmmhmmm. Smells good, doesn't it? I'm kind of testing the waters…seeing how the oven and the altitude handle this recipe. First batch should be ready in about ten minutes. We can sample it and I should be able to get two more in before you'll want to start dinner."

"If those cookies taste as good as they smell, we won't need dinner."

I giggled. He was such a little boy sometimes. "Fine by me but don't complain later when your stomach's growling because we skipped. Ready for some ornaments?"

He tweaked one or two more spots and then stood back to review his work. "I think so. Let me just plug it in." He bent to insert the cord into the jack. "There. That looks just about perfect."

"A fine job indeed," I said and saluted him with my glass. "Okay. Let's get busy."

We both dug into the boxes and bags of trimmings we'd purchased and before the timer on the stove went off, we'd managed to get all of the ornaments on. As we munched on piping hot gingerbread men drizzled in home-made cream cheese frosting we inspected our handiwork, snickering at the presentation.

"As soon as we get the garland on, we're going to IM the lab. Greg will get quite a kick out of this."

"What? I think it's pretty amazing considering what we had to work with."

It was my turn to roll my eyes. "You know, I told you that we needed to shop for this stuff as soon as it hit the shelves."

"That was in September. Who shops for Christmas decorations in September?"

"Anyone who celebrates Christmas in Resolute Bay, Canada, that's who," I told him with a shoulder nudge and a solid chuckle. "When things run out here, they run out." I laughed again and walked back to the kitchen. "That's an awful lot of orange."

And it was. We had orange plastic balls for ornaments in three sizes, three strings of blinking orange mini lights, orange soda pop flavored candy canes and, to top it all off, orange and white garland. But the best part (or should I say parts?) of all were the ten little Santas we had scattered here and there. The only box of ornaments left on the store shelf that wasn't orange had been this little beat up box of Santa figurines so Gil and I had grabbed it and tossed it in the cart. We were so happy to find something that wasn't orange that we really didn't inspect the box all that closely so it wasn't until we opened it a couple of minutes ago that we realized that each and every one of those little guys was naked as the day they were born! Santa's hat was put to good use, covering his um…holly berries…but other than that the poor little elves were completely sans clothing.

"Orange trimmings and pornographic Santas. I don't know. I think it works, somehow, don't you?"

"Well it certainly puts a new spin on the phrase, 'Ho Ho Ho.'" I scooped the rest of the cookies from the first batch to cooling racks and started cutting out the second. Within a few minutes I had a fresh tray ready so I slipped them into the over and began spacing out a third. My back was to the living room so I didn't realize Gil had snuck up behind me until his arms slid around my waist and he started rocking with me slowly. It was then I noticed that the laptop had moved onto another song…one with a heavy, throbbing beat. One that I recognized almost the instant it started playing. "Oh my god. You can't be serious."

"Traditional Christmas hymns don't really seem appropriate."

"And you think Freddy's _Screaming Horn of Love_ is?" I countered, belatedly realizing that he'd had to have either downloaded that frigging song from the disc to the laptop or Freddy's song was actually available now on a music site. I shuddered at the thought and then groaned low in my throat as Gil began to nip at my neck. "On second thought…" I said, turning around quickly in his arms and moving in tight, "maybe it works just fine." My mouth was on his and we were half dancing, half stumbling towards the bedroom, all thoughts of cookies and orange trimmed trees melting away in the wake of our shared lust.

We made love, laughing and teasing each other the whole time. Gil had left Freddy's song on loop so it kept playing over and over in the background as we played between the sheets…and on top of the sheets…and under the sheets…and well, truth be told, without any sheets at all. It was a romp of a session that only ended when the smell of burnt gingerbread filtered through the air.

"Holy crap! We forgot about the cookies! They're probably ruined." I pushed against Gil's chest and rolled to my feet. Opening the door to the oven confirmed my suspicions. "Poor little guys. You didn't have a chance, did you?"

Gil had followed me out and was now peeking over my shoulder and the scorched offerings. "Nothing salvageable?"

"'Fraid not. Guess I'll throw them out." I made to do so but Gil stalled me.

"No, wait. I have an idea. Do we still have any of that fishing line I used for ice fishing last month?"

* * * * *

On Sunday evening, December 6, 2009, Greg opened his email and spied a letter from Sara Sidle Grissom in the inbox. He clicked it open, expecting to see one of her lengthy, off hand commentaries of her latest adventures in the North but instead saw only one line of type.

"Season's Greetings, from the Grissoms."

He frowned quizzically at the sentiment and then noticed there was an attachment. He double clicked the link and a huge photo opened in a separate window. At first, the picture looked to him like any number of standard family holiday shots. There were his newly married friends standing arm in arm in front of a roaring fire and a brightly decorated tree, but on closer inspection, he discovered that it was anything but 'standard'. The picture was blown up enough that he could make out the decorations quite clearly. The first thing he noticed was all the orange. "Weird," he said out loud and leaned in closer. He sort of did a double-take when he saw the naked Santas. "Very weird," he murmured, squinting quizzically at the strange little figurines. Finally, his eyes honed in on the smudgy, obviously burnt to a crisp, gingerbread men that dangled eerily between the branches. Not only did they appear to float in mid-air but whoever had decorated them had given them features that resembled lab personnel. The caption on the bottom of the photo read:

_Just our way of bringing a little bit of Vegas to Resolute Bay_

…_even if it was unintentional._

Wish you were here!

Greg grinned widely and hit the print button. CSI was a mad-house tonight. Everyone on the team was over-worked, over-stressed and over-tired. This picture might be just the little lift everyone needed before heading home. He snatched the photo from the printer and made the rounds spreading his own brand of Christmas cheer.

A/N: Okay, so F is also for Freddy. Well, you didn't actually think I would publish an "F" piece without him now, did you? Happy Ho Ho everyone!


	7. G is for Garland

G is for Garland

"Ho…Ho…Ho…"

I looked up from my _American Entomology_ journal and smirked appreciatively. "I thought we'd used all of the garland on the tree."

Sara shook her head. "No…I…um…snuck some away when you went to the kitchen to snag another cookie."

"How did you get it to-?"

"Hang in all the right places? Hmmm?"

I swallowed. "Yes."

"That's my little secret." She twirled a little, preening at her cleverness, blew a kiss in my direction and headed out of the room. "Guess you'll have to unwrap me to find out."

"If I must, I must," I agreed and followed her out.


	8. H is for Heroics

H is for Heroics

I sighed heavily as I propped open the lid of my laptop and waited for it to wake up. I was exhausted but I needed to email the lab before the media reports reached them to reassure them everything was all right. I opened my email server and hit the 'To' button then selected the blanket send group that had Greg, Catherine, Nick, Jim and Ecklie's addresses linked to it. For the subject heading, I simply filled in, "Happy New Year from the Great White North".

_How to begin? _I stared at the blank screen for several minutes before I started typing my standard greeting:

_Hello All!_

_I hope everyone there is well and that you had a quiet, peaceful New Year's. Okay, so I know that's a lot to ask of Las Vegas but one can hope, right?_

_I know it's been a couple of days since I've written but well, we had a little excitement here that sort of kept us too preoccupied to get on with our usual routines. _

My fingers paused above the keyboard. Gil was coughing again. I glanced over, noting the fact that he looked as though he was still mostly asleep and waited, hoping the coughing would subside rather than build. When he relaxed back into the mattress a few minutes later I let out a slow, silent breath and tried to concentrate again on my letter.

_It's three am here, and the light outside is as bright as it would be at high noon...in other words, non-existent. The people here strive to keep a normal routine through these endless nights but I have noticed that sleep is hard to come by unless you keep yourself very busy, especially for a workaholic, insomniac like me. It just seems that with no 'sunrise' there are so many hours in the day that you have almost an 'obligation' to fill them.. I don't know how to explain it really. I just know that I'm always looking for things to do…or try. I've gotten back into sketching and photography…things I haven't really played with for some time. There's something about the landscape and the people here that fascinates me. It takes a remarkable stamina and personal strength to survive and prosper in these hash conditions. I often times find myself reaching for a pencil or a camera desperate to capture some of the most touching moments so I can remember them clearly when we head back home. _

I re-read what I'd written, wondering at the fact that I was circling around my news in such a casual way but decided that maybe it was easier to lead into things…at least for me.

_Gil's become quite passionate about ice fishing. He's found several good friends who enjoy nothing more than getting up early and heading out to the ice-cap for a couple of hours before they settle into the rest of their day. You should see him, all bundled up…eyes sparkling at the adventure of it all. I don't think I've seen him so at ease with himself in all the time I've known him. We've joked about it…me telling him that the arctic life suits him…but he insists that it's not the place…it's being married to me that makes him happy._

I smile at that last bit, a sentimental tear trickling down my cheek as I remember his expression when he'd said those words to me. It was the last thing he'd said before he'd gone out that evening…

_Anyway, we've both been making the most of our time here. _

_I don't know if I mentioned this but earlier this year, when the Olympic torch made the first leg of it's journey through Canada, it stopped off here. It was quite an event. Lots of media coverage and excitement. The whole town was completely immersed in the festivities and things went very well. There was only one hitch in the entire venture. A curious polar bear was stalking the town while the runners were trying to make their way along the trail. They were very concerned about the possibility that the bear might continue to trail the torch bearers through the dogsled portion of the trek but luckily nothing untoward happened._

_This is nothing new for Resolute Bay. One of the dangers we were told of…frankly, warned of…when we arrived was that we did get the occasional polar bear wandering through town. Most of the time, they weren't aggressive and could be scared off but we were told that outdoor activities, especially those conducted when the fish supply was low in the coldest months, had to be planned and well…organized…to protect against incidents. You were expected to be responsible and take the proper precautions. You didn't venture out unless you told someone where you were going…your approximate return time…and took with you the necessary survival and first aid equipment needed if you were going outside township limits. This included making sure someone in your party was armed and prepared to deal with wildlife incidents should they occur._

_I have to admit, that Gil and I hadn't taken the warnings as seriously as we should have when we first landed but after the torch relay, we certainly had a change of heart. The organizers of the event had planned for every contingency, including having stationed lookouts. These look-outs were heavily armed (with both tranquilizer rifles and regular ones) and very prepared to deal with any trouble that could present itself…particularly in bear form. Polar bears are incredibly intelligent animals, not to mention, incredibly strong hunters. Some of the sailors around here tell you stories about how when they were fishing off the coast, a bear would pick up their sent and trail them all along the coast for the duration of their trip if it was hungry enough to hunt them down. Luckily for us, in this case, this bear wasn't hunting; just curious. The bear was warned off sternly the couple of times it got too close to the town and all was fine, but only because the township had planned so carefully. Needless to say it made quite an impression on us. Gil and I have been overcautious in our pursuits to ensure that we could be as safe as could be._

_Not everyone here was always that diligent. _

Gil was coughing again. This time the coughing didn't abate and I had to help him to sit up while he drank some warm tea and then settled him back into the covers. "What are you doing?" he asked me, as he rolled to his side.

"Writing the gang back at the lab," I told him.

"Leave it and come back to bed. You're tired," he said. His voice sounded so gruff and strained, I'm sure his throat was aching as he formed the words.

I shook my head. "I will. In a bit."

He turned his head to look at me and sighed. "I'm okay…now, Sara. You don't have to keep watch."

I leaned down and painted a delicate kiss against his skin. "I know. You're much better than you were even a couple of hours ago. I'm just…I'm just going to finish this and then I'll come back to bed, okay?"

He moaned an agreement and then rolled back around to sink back into the bedding. I think he was asleep before I made it back to the computer. Knowing I could be interrupted any time now, I decided I had to get to the crux of my news before Gil asked for me again.

_I'm sure you're all wondering where this is heading so I'll get to the point. On New Year's Eve, Gil and his gang decided to go out for a 'late-night' fish. In fact, we sort of made it a party because the girlfriends and wives of the men tagged along. We'll all brought food and drinks to welcome in the New Year with a bit of a bash. We weren't the only ones doing it either. I think that by the time Midnight hit there were probably close to forty people milling about and having a good time. It was cold and people took turns warming up inside their cars but it was pretty cool. I don't think many fish were caught. _

_Anyway, we were all making quite a bit of noise and I guess that and the food attracted some unwanted attention. We literally went from laughing one minute to hearing warning shouts and shots from some of the rifles. A bear had wandered perilously close to our gathering and was getting closer by the second. Nobody panicked but there was a flurry of activity as people began clearing things up and heading back to the town while those that were armed kept a careful survey of the bear and its activity._

_At first it looked as though the bear was going to move on, but then, it stopped and began a charge right for the hole where Gil and his friends had been fishing. In our haste to pack up, someone had left a string of fish on the ice pad and the bear was obviously determined to get at it._

_There was a shout, followed by more, and another blast or two of rifles into the air (no one wanted to hurt the bear unless it was absolutely necessary), and then the sight of the strung fish being flung in the opposite direction of the bear's path. As a distraction, it was a bit lame, but the bear took it, snagging the catch in his mouth and heading off. Strangely, there was a good bit of laughing and cheering at that as the bear ran away in the dark. I think it was relief more than amusement but in any case, unfortunately, it was short lived._

_We were all watching the bear and its loping gallop across the ice when suddenly there was another shout, this one of a panicked nature. At the time, I wasn't close enough to see exactly what had happened but later, after everyone was safe, I learned that one of Gil's friends had come dangerously close to drowning that night. He would have…had it not been for Gil._

_Dave Brenner, a fellow researcher but one that had been part of the populace of Resolute Bay for close to ten years, lost his footing as the bear had made its aggressive approach towards the ice hole. In the chaos of the moment, he'd dropped into the water and hadn't been able to find his way back to the surface. The combination of the frigid temperature of the water and the five or six beers he'd swallowed forced his system into a state of shock almost instantaneously. Everyone says that had he stayed in that water a moment longer than he had he wouldn't have made it. _

_No one realized he was gone. Everyone was busy congratulating themselves over the bear incident that no one had a clue they were one person short…that is until Gil started counting heads and realized someone was missing. _

I trembled, there on my seat, in our tiny little cabin, remembering the chill I felt that night when the shout went up and I'd realized that Gil had gone in after him.

_After, when everyone was safe and warm and being cared for at the clinic, Gil said that he had seen something. Just a flash of clothing…Dave's belt buckle to be exact…and hadn't thought…just acted. He slid across the ice, guys, and wedged himself into the hole and…grabbed hold of that belt buckle and hung on for dear life. The others around him quickly realized what had happened and were able to pull both men to safety but both Dave and Gil had been soaked through and needed immediate medical attention. _

_Both men stayed overnight receiving treatment. Dave was suffering from severe hyperthermia…he was touch and go for several days. He went into cardiac arrest a couple of hours after he was admitted but battled back. My last call to the doctor in charge of his care confirmed that he was still holding his own. There's every possibility he will make a full recovery if he can gain back his strength._

_As for Gil, they kept him for a couple of days as well. He contracted a severe case of bronchial pneumonia. Although his body was only exposed for a few minutes, his system had a really difficult time dealing with the incident. He developed a high fever and a vicious cough, which then turned into a serious lung infection. They were worried about losing him too at one point because the fever just wouldn't break and the infection was too severe. But you know Grissom. Stubborn as they come. He fought every bit as hard as Dave did and is currently resting in our bed at home. His lungs are still weak and he's on a lot of medication but he's made remarkable strides in just the last twenty-four hours. They're very certain he'll be back to himself in a few more days. _

_That's all of the news on our end. I wanted to write you as soon as I could because I was told that the national papers have picked up the story and that there was every possibility you guys would see something soon. I didn't want you to worry._

_Here's hoping your New Year's was less eventful than ours._

_Take care,_

_Sara_

I pressed the send button with an immense sigh of relief and softly lowered the laptop lid once it cleared the server. I made a quick trip to the bathroom, scrubbed my face and my teeth and then padded back to the bedroom.

Gil was snoring; softly but with some vigor. I grinned. It was familiar. It was normal. To my weary body, it was music. I think it was the first, deep, even breathing I'd heard from him in days and no sound could be sweeter. I lifted the covers, so carefully, desperate not to wake him and inched my way across the mattress. I snuggled up to his back and wrapping myself against his frame, pressed my ear tight to his spine. The steady rhythm of his heart was my lullaby as I drifted off, knowing precisely the measure of the man I held so closely in my arms.

Gil blushed and shrugged off his actions when anyone mentioned the word, 'heroic' in his presence, insisting that he'd just done what needed to be done, but we knew what he was just the same.

_A/N: While the events around the ice rescue were completely fabricated by me, the events I recalled for the Olympic Torch relay are actually true. _


	9. I is for Invitation

The ABC's of CSI: Cold, Snow and Ice

_I is for Invitation_

Suddenly sensing I was no longer alone in the kitchen, I turned about sharply, smiling but concerned. "Hey, you. You're up!"

Gil dragged a chair back from the table and sank into it wearily. "Yes. Unfortunately, it's likely this is a very temporary status."

I passed a hand along his face, surreptitiously checking his temperature before delivering a welcoming kiss. "Yes, well, considering you were in the hospital twenty four hours ago, I'd say you're making remarkable progress. Breakfast?"

He shook his head carefully, the knowing look in his eyes telling me he wasn't ignorant of the purpose behind my little gesture. "Tea, maybe. My stomach's still a little off."

"You need to eat, Gil. You haven't had anything stronger than broth since they released you." I didn't want to push but I couldn't help it. "Is there anything you have a taste for? Anything at all?"

He was about to answer but his indrawn breath caused a coughing fit that was both noisy and violent. Thankfully it was also short lived. I passed him a glass of water and he slowly sipped it until he was able to speak again. "Actually, there is something…but I don't know if they have them here."

"What's that?" I flipped the switch on the automatic kettle and grabbed a couple of cups for the tea.

"Fig Newtons. You know, the little cookies. My uncle used to call them Naked Noogies." He grinned at that and I couldn't help but join in. "I haven't had them in years but I suddenly have a craving for them."

"Actually, I think they do have those…at the store. I could run out and get you some." I dropped a tea bag into each cup and got spoons for sugar. We both took our tea black but sweet. I'm sure many people would shudder to see how sweet but Gil's condition it was probably a good thing. At least I was getting something into him.

He grunted. "No, don't make a trip just for me. Especially if we're not sure they have them in stock. Too cold."

I rolled my eyes. "It's always cold here, Gil. Can't let that stop me, but I'm not too keen on leaving you alone anyway so I'll pass. Maybe I can get someone to deliver. Our neighbor's oldest boy has offered before. There's a couple of other things I need as well. I'll call over this afternoon." That much taken care of, I turned back to the cupboards. "Toast, Gil? Maybe with a bit of butter?"

"Toast works, but dry, okay, Sar?"

Pleased that he was going to try to eat I nodded as I placed a steaming mug of tea in front of him. "Sure thing. Are you comfortable there? I just stoked the fireplace. You could take your tea in and watch some television while I get your toast ready."

"No…no, I'm fine here." His eyes crinkled at the corners, their colour softened, as he took the mug between both hands and cautiously took a sip.

"If you're sure," I replied, setting the bread into the toaster's slots and pressing down the lever. "Two's enough?"

"More than. I might not be able to manage more than a few bites."

"Okay. Two it is then." I went about the business of getting a plate and a placemat, you know, the general kitchen routine of putting a meal together, but couldn't help feeling a little self-conscious while I was doing it. At first I didn't understand exactly why that was until I realized that Gil was watching my every move. In fact, I doubt he'd taken a blink since I started puttering. Not sure how to say it, but knowing I needed to say something, I stopped and scooted a chair back. "Is everything alright?" I asked, sitting right beside him rather than across the table as I normally did.

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"Yes. Why?"

My lips curled gently. "Because you're staring at me, Gil."

His mouth mimicked mine. "Was I?"

"Hmmm hmm."

He put down his mug and I felt his fingers thread through the strands of my hair. "I would offer to stop," he said, letting his hand float down the line of my neck and arm, "but I try not to make promises I know I can't keep." His fingers linked with mine and I sighed at his sweet words, dropping my head against his shoulder. "This was close, Sar."

There were so many things I wanted to say, but I wasn't ready to deal with them yet so all I could manage was, "I know."

"I'm sorry-"

I lifted my head, shaking it before he'd finished speaking. "You can't regret this, Gil. You can't. I won't let you."

His hand squeezed mine a little tighter. "I didn't think. I just jumped."

"I know. It was instinct. I probably would have done the same. Well, tried, anyway."

He shuddered. "He would have dragged you in, Sar. He was so heavy. Almost dead weight with his layers of thick clothing. I was damn lucky I didn't follow him in all the way."

I nodded. "Yes. You're probably right. I don't know if I would have managed to keep a hold on him and stayed on top of the ice. It just goes to show how lucky he was you were there and acted so swiftly." The toast popped and I got up to see to it. I placed a piece on his plate and one on mine and delivered it to the table with a flourish. "There we go. Guess the toaster likes us today. Only singed the ends." Lately, the machine had become a little unpredictable. Settings didn't seem to matter a whole lot. Some days the bread came out perfectly golden. Others, burnt to a crisp. There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to it so we were forced to put up with 'toast roulette' (as we called it) until the new one we'd ordered at the store came in.

"I knew there was a reason to get up this morning," Gil rasped out, taking the tiniest of nibbles.

Again, the urge to push bubbled inside me but this time I ruthlessly pushed it down. Small steps, I reminded myself. It was easy to see my anxiety was born of a need to have Gil back to his old self sooner rather than later but I had to be satisfied with the progress we'd made so far. Really, what was I expecting? A few days ago, he was burning with fever and in a hospital bed with tubes running through him. Now…well, we were a long way from normal but we were sharing breakfast…and talking…and joking around. It was good. It was great. It was something I was so very afraid we'd never get to do again.

"Now you're staring."

His soft words made me jump, and when I looked up his eyes were swirling with sympathy. "What? Was I?"

"Um hmm," he mumbled around another bite of toast.

Unwilling to let those dark thoughts of mine grab hold again, I leaned in and let fly with the first idea that popped into my head. "I was thinking…what if we piled the blankets and pillows onto the sofa and pull out that DVD set you got for Christmas?"

Again, I could tell that my little subterfuge hadn't fooled him but he was more than willing to follow my lead. "The Film Noir set from Catherine?"

"Right. We'll pop some popcorn, have a marathon and make a pajama day of it."

He grinned. "Just like old times."

"Just like the first time," I reminded him with great fondness, thinking back to the first night we spent together as friends after years of being at odds. Not long after the Russian beautician case…the one that almost got me fired after I went off on Catherine and Ecklie both…Gil had shown up at my door one night with a bag full of snacks and an armload of old movies. I don't know to this day, if I invited him in or he invited himself but whatever it else it was, it was a fresh start for us both.

Though time would show that we still had several important issues to deal with, that movie marathon with all of its silliness and casual construction gave us a foundation to build on and a direction in which to move forward.

For the first time since I'd come to Vegas, we were friends again. We were able to laugh together…be intimate with one another…and all of those years of misunderstandings and hurt were put aside to begin again.

"It's a date," he told me as he stood slowly from the table and trudged towards the bedroom. "I'll do the bedding, you do the food. I'm just going to have a quick wash first. Meet you in fifteen?"

"Done," I called after him, my heart feeling so much lighter. The comfort of routine and familiar patterns doing more to ease my nerves than a thousand verbal reassurances, I hummed happily under my breath as I called our neighbor to arrange the grocery errand and pulled together what we needed for the living room.

Three hours later I sat in the shamble of what was normally our meticulously kept living room and surveyed the damage. Our coffee table was decorated with two half-eaten bowls of popcorn, as open package of fig bars and its related crumbs, various mugs and glasses, leftovers from canned soup and crackers we'd attempted to eat for lunch and a twenty disc DVD set sprawled from one end to the next. Though one part of me itched to tidy, the rest of me was perfectly content to be trapped in the corner of the sofa, wrapped comfortably in a hand-made quilt. The black and white images flickered merrily over the television screen, casting soft shadows on my husband's face as he dozed through his latest film choice. If someone had asked me about the plot of the movie, I'm not sure I wouldn't have been able to tell them what was actually going on. I think I spent as much time watching Gil as I had the screen. The plot was simply not as fascinating.

_A/N: There is a brief reference in this one to my piece, "I think it was a Sunday." I thought I should make note of that in case anyone was curious as to what I was using as a jumping off point._


	10. J is for Justifiable Homicide

J is for Justifiable Homicide

It was a typical March morning (or so I was told for what passed as morning here in the Great White North) with no sun to be had and the casual nip of a minus forty windchill. I was lying in bed, having just heard the buzz of the alarm, waiting for my body to accept the fact that it was time to get up, when I heard it.

BANG!

BHIJJJHHHIITTTTT….ccccrrrRRAAACCKKKKK!

CRACK!

BANG!

THUNK!

I leaped out of bed, and clad only in my Spiderman boxer shorts (a "happy first day back at work" gag gift from Sara the night before) bolted into the kitchen to see what in the hell was going on.

The sight that greeted me was a little on the…disturbing side. There, in the middle of the remains of one of our kitchen appliances stood my wife, still in fight or flight stance staring down at the electronic corpse. She barely glanced at me when I appeared in the doorway…her behavior suggesting that she was on guard in case the mechanism should somehow collect itself and resume whateverthehell it was doing before she bludgeoned it with a rolling pin. Obviously, she wasn't taking any chances.

"It attacked me first," she growled between heaving breaths and I struggled to find some kind of response.

"The toaster?"

"Yes."

"It attacked you first?"

"Yes."

"That just doesn't make sense-"

"I don't care if it makes sense! The damn thing bit me and I delivered payback! " She brandished the rolling pin and I honestly believe she was considering giving the mangled toaster another whack just for the hell of it.

"Bit you? How-?"

"I tried to get the toast…it was burning…and I tried to get it out…and it bit me."

"The trap closed on your finger?"

"Yes. And let me tell you buddy, for the last time."

"It's happened before?"

"Yes. Twice. This was the last straw."

"So I see."

"No more burnt toast! No more half cooked toast! In fact, no more toast of any kind."

"Except for the toaster itself. "

"What?"

I nudged the remains with my toes. "The toaster is definitely…um…toast." Another nudge dislodged several small bits of metal and plastic. "Poor little bugger. Think it learned its lesson?"

"Don't. Don't you dare! You're trying to make me feel guilty and I won't let you. I warned it…the last time it bit me…I warned it…the next time it tried something nasty like that I'd end it, so don't feel sorry for it. It got what it deserved."

"No, no, I'm not. I get it. It attacked you and you defended yourself."

"Yes."

"With the rolling pin."

"Damn straight. And when it started throwing sparks at me I ended the evil waste of nuts and bolts. You have a problem with that?"

"Me? No. Nope. Not at all. Certainly not while you're still holding the rolling pin."

She looked at the 'murder weapon' and then back at me. A moment later she dropped the tool on the counter with a bit of a clang, and shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans. "Hey, um, Gil?"

"Yes, Sara?"

"I…um…I think I killed our toaster." She bent down and picked up the object of our discussion by the cord, as if I needed further evidence of her actions.

Seeing as she was unarmed, I made a tentative step forward, plucking the machine from her hands. "I'd say that that's a distinct possibility." I put it on the table and without another word got the dustpan and brush from under the sink and swept up what bits and pieces I could. "Either that…or made art."

"I'm a murderer, Gil. I confess. I should be banned from owning another kitchen appliance. Hell, I should be banned from the kitchen altogether." She covered her face with her hands and moaned. Within a heartbeat, the moan turned into a giggle. "Dammit," she said after a jagged breath, "I can't even pretend I'm sorry." She began to giggle even harder.

Her laugh was infectious. Glad the crisis was over, I parted her hands and dropped a kiss onto the tip of her nose. "As lead investigator on the scene-"

Still laughing, she reared back. "Wait a minute-this isn't Vegas. Who put you in charge?"

"- I am inclined to agree that you may have used a…um…excessive amount of force-"

She rolled her eyes, challenging me with a mere glance. "Well, that depends on your interpretation of the word excessive."

"-in rectifying the situation-"

She shook a finger at me. "You just remember that I've been the one dealing with it for the last couple of weeks while you were recuperating-"

"-but it seems to me that there was due provocation on the part of the toaster."I caught the finger she'd waved in front of my nose and soothed the angry burn on its tip with my mouth. "Better?" I asked, drawing her closer.

"Yeah," she said, her softness curving sweetly into my frame. "Nice save, Bugman. So…what's your conclusion with regard to the outcome?"

I thought for a moment and then whispered, "Simple. Justifiable homicide."

That earned me one of her special smiles. "Well, then, I guess I'm off the hook. Allow me to express my gratitude…"

And she did. Twice.


	11. K is for Kwiki

A/N: Does this piece really need an author's note? You be the judge.

K is for K-w-i-k-i

Breathing was a conscious effort as I drove into her with one last, heavy thrust. Still riding the wave of her body's release, I felt her tremble violently in response before I followed her over into the abyss, my body collapsing on hers in pure abandon. Sweaty, hot, entangled, we clung to each other as our heart rates returned to normal and our bodies cooled.

"Gil?"

"Yes, Sara?"

"How do you spell 'quickie'?"

"What?"

"Quickie. I mean is like 'Kwiki-Mart' like in that cartoon show or is it-"

"Oh…um…as far as I know…q-u-i-c-k-i-e. Why?

"Oh."

"You sound disappointed."

"No…no, I'm not…not really. I just thought it might be cooler the other way."

"What other way?"

"K-w-i-k-i."

"Oh. Okay." There was a small pause. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you want to know?"

She shrugged. "Mmmm…just curious."

"Why?"

She emitted a sound that was something of a mix between a groan and a giggle and rolled to her feet. "Never mind. It's stupid." She stretched a little this way and that and I have to admit I enjoyed the show. "Forget I brought it up," she said, oh so casually and then grinned at me with merrily dancing eyes.

"Sara?"

"Yes, Gil?'

"Tell me why I'm suddenly getting a little uneasy here?"

"I have no idea, honey. None at all." Her grin blossomed into a full blown smile, teasing me for all she was worth.

A quick roll off my side of the bed brought me to my feet as well. "Now I really have to know," I told her, edging stealthily along the bottom edge of the mattress, matching her footsteps precisely. "What are you up to?"

Suddenly all wide-eyed and innocent, she shook her head. "Me? Um. Nothing. Nothing at all. Why do you ask?" This last was tossed over her shoulder as she suddenly bolted for the living room.

Of course I gave chase. What man in his right mind wouldn't? Not that it was any great feat in our tiny little cottage. Within seconds I had her cornered…mind you, I'm pretty sure she wanted to be caught, but I wasn't complaining. Pinned between my body and the right angles of the living room walls, I had her at my mercy and blatantly took advantage of that fact.

Sara had let her hair grow. Chestnut curls tumbled almost to her shoulders…curls she let go untamed just for me. I threaded my fingers through those silken strands and drew her face up to mine. My lips touched hers once…twice…and then a third time before I whispered, "Tell me."

Her breath caught on a gasp as I rake my teeth gently down the line of her jaw. "Gil-"

"Tell me," I demanded, one hand finding her breast as I kissed her again.

She pulled her head away, and licked her lips devilishly. "And if I don't?"

I didn't answer…but…little by little…miserable inch by inch…I let my hand travel lower…and lower…and lower…meeting her eyes stare for stare…until I reached my intended target…and then…started to tickle her torturously! Sara was extremely ticklish…right below her ribs.

She howled in laughter as I hit just the right spot over and over until she begged me to let up. "Okay…okay! I give. I'll tell! I will!"

"Promise?"

"Yes!"

I stopped, laughing every bit as hard as she was and backed away a little so we could both recover. "Well?"

"Just let me…(gasp) catch my-"

"Sara!" I sent my fingers moving against her ribs again.

"Alright! Alright! I wanted to know because…I never really had an opportunity to use that word before and I…wanted to make sure I got it right when…I emailed Catherine." And then she was off in a flash, this time heading for the bedroom.

The chase was on again. "Excuse me?"

"Oh and Greg!" she roared, flopping backwards onto our bed and holding out her arms to me.

I raised a brow at her blatant invitation. "You think I'm going to make love to you after a comment like that?"

Her grin was cocky. "Yep."

I leaned against the frame of the door and folded my arms. "Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?"

She leaned up on her elbow, her eyes traveling down my frame to a very stiff part of my anatomy and then right back up again. "Yep...unless you're not feeling up to it. I mean, this is the first time we've had mad monkey love since the accident. Maybe you're not up for another round?"

I was off the door frame in an instant, my body drawn to hers with all the force of a tidal wave, my hardness meeting her softness in a single solid thrust.

"Ooomphhh…guess we answered that question," she whispered into my skin and drew me in closer.

And one thing led to another…and another…and another…


	12. L is for Lyric

L is for Lemonade

"Smile, Sara."

_FLASH_

"Stuff it, Gil."

"Come on. We're having an adventure."

"No. You're having an adventure. I'm having a battle with frostbite."

"Smiling uses more muscles than frowning. It'll help keep you warm."

_FLASH_

"Tackling you and beating you over the head with your camera uses even more. Wanna try?"

He smirked and sighed. "No, I'm good." He turned back to the mini lab he'd set up, his shoulders hunched and his whole body dejected.

Which left me feeling like absolute dirt. Crap. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's just that I'm cold and tired after the long trek out here. I'm afraid I just wasn't really prepared for this."

He turned back to me. "It was short notice."

I huddled deep into my heavy arctic parka. "Yeah. Hey, I can still see my breath in here. Has it warmed up at all?"

Gil got up and strode over to the heater. "Not much. There's more air, but not a lot of heat."

I groaned through chattering teeth. "Getting back to that short notice thing...explain to me again how we ended up here?"

"The team that was supposed to take this hut...Milbourne and Osterman?"

"The Austrailians?"

"Yes. One of them came down with a bad case of bronchitis. I was next on the list...or so I was told..."

I shook my head. "That's the part I don't get. We weren't next for one of these huts. Last time I checked, there were at least three other teams ahead of us. What gives?"

"Maybe...maybe there were other teams ahead of us but they weren't able to take advantage of the sudden opportunity. If this had been last week, I wouldn't have been able to get away. I had three delicate processes in the works."

I shrugged. "Okay, I can buy that but maybe...and I'm just playing devil's advocate here...maybe they knew about this hut and how bad the conditions would be and how terrible the heater was and decided not to take it because they knew they'd be miserable here. I mean, come on. We are still the new kids on the block here. I wouldn't put it past some of them to have a little fun at our expense."

Gil nodded, and added with a little reluctance, "Yeah, that had occurred to me at one point on the trip up. Nobody else was clamouring to take our place. Like you said, generally there's a healthy competitive atmosphere when it comes to booking a private research station. I didn't see any evidence of that this time round." He got up and grabbed a kettle from the back burner of the gas stove and brought it to the sink to rinse it. "Look, it's done now. And we're here." After filling the kettle, he settled it back on the near burner and set it to boil. "Come have a cup of tea with me. It'll do us both good. You'll stop complaining. We'll both get a bit of work done and then we can head to bed." He grinned at me, shark-like, baring his teeth deliberately.

I snorted. "'You'll stop complaining,'" I parroted back. "Interesting choice of words for a man who obviously wants to do more than sleep in that bed with me tonight."

Instead of putting him off, my words made his grin grow deeper. "Stop being so touchy," he ordered cheerfully and pulled me into his embrace. He began swaying from foot to foot, forcing me gently to follow his lead.

I did but I had to ask, "What are you doing?"

"Dancing," he replied, adjusting his hold on me and tucking me into his frame.

"Dancing."

"Yes."

"But there's no music."

"So? Who needs music? I'm just trying to keep my toes from freezing off. Just go with it." All the same, he began to hum under his breath as we circled in the tiny space between the stove and the counter.

At first, I couldn't make out the tune...his voice was so soft and frankly, I was paying far more attention to the feel of his body against mine than what he was actually humming but then I recognized the melody. I laughed softly, "'The Way You Look Tonight?'"

"UM hmmm," he mumbled before dropping back into the melody.

"I look like a walking marshmallow," I told him, laughing harder.

"True but you're the most beautiful walking marshmallow I've ever seen."

I lifted my head and deposited a noisy kiss on his cheek. "Thank-you, I think." He hummed a little more, meandering his way through the first verse, the hum transforming into lyrics as he drawled, _"...and the way you look tonight._

_Yes you're lovely, with your smile so...COLD  
And your cheeks so...RED,  
There is nothing for me but to LOVE you,  
And the way you look tonight. "_

"Cute," I snickered lazily into his neck, nuzzling there as we swayed back and forth.

"You like that, huh?"

"I am so hot for you right now," I whispered sensuously then ruined it by giggling when he waggled his eyebrows at me.

"With each SECOND OUR BODY TEMPERATURE DROPS,  
FROSTBITES ABOUT TO START...  
THE COLD'S BEGINNING TO REDDEN your nose,  
It touches my foolish heart."

"You're murdering the lyrics, dear."

"Improving them." he told me, unzipping my coat so he could slip his arms around my body more intimately. "My version has a certain...charm, don't you think?"

"MMmmm, better than Shakespeare," I replied happily then squealed as his hands slipped under my sweater. "AAAAHHHHhhhh! Your hands are like icicles!"

"Yeah...but getting warmer by the second." He swept them up and down my back and I shivered not just from the cold but from the delicious tremors that danced along my spine.

"You know, when I tell Catherine about some of the silly...ummmm..." I sucked in a gasp as his teeth skimmed my throat, "...aaahhhh...and...romantic things that you do when we're alone...she...she...I can tell she has a hard time believing...me."

He pulled back, a little shrug twitching at his shoulder as his thumbs traced the shape of my breasts. "I don't feel that way at work or around Catherine so...I guess...that really doesn't come as a surprise."

"Good point," I gasped, slipping my hands under his shirt and doing a little exploring of my own. And I don't know why...maybe it was the way that his beautiful blue eyes were staring so deeply...so honestly into mine...or maybe it was just because I was so wrapped up in everything that made Gilbert Grissom who he was...but I got a little choked up when he started singing again.

"Lovely ... Never, ever change.  
Keep that breathless charm.  
Won't you please arrange it ?  
'Cause I love you ... Just the way you look to-"

A sharp piercing whistle interrupted his finish and I chuckled.

"Kettle's done," he told me.

I shook my head, my lips too busy exploring the skin I'd exposed after unbuttoning his shirt.

"No tea?"

"No tea," I told him. "Just you."

He reached over with the agility of a gymnast, switching off the burner and removing the kettle all without breaking contact with me. When he danced me toward the miserable excuse for a bed that furnished the cabin all I could think was, "Thank goodness we made up the bed earlier!" before we landed in a heap on its saggy mattress. Then it was all hands, and lips and skin and...well...hot...wet...heat until we collapsed, sated, in tangled bed sheets.

"Warmer?" he asked, still panting.

"I'm-I'm... good," I told him, trying to catch my breath, "but obviously a little more out of shape than I'd thought!"

He rolled to his side to stare down at me, then shifted so he could drop a kiss on the tip of my breast. "_"Lovely ... " _His tongue swirled, his lips suckled_. "Never, ever change."_ His hand shaped my hip, flattened and skated lower, teasingly lower. "_Keep that..."his fingers found me and I gasped in pure delight, "... breathless charm. Won't you please arrange it ?" His body shifted over mine, his lips replacing his hand, whispering against my most sensitive skin. "'Cause I love you ... Just the way you look to-night. Mm, Mm, Mm, Mm, Just the way you look to-night."_

"Better than Shakespeare," I whispered mistily and took the weight of him in my arms, holding him close to my heart as we tumbled into a deep sleep.


	13. M is for Movie Night, Minutes & Memories

M is for Movie Night, Minutes, and Memories.

"Shii-uugar!"

"Shii-uugar?"my husband parroted. He chuckled evilly as he helped me with my heavy, puffy coat and settled it behind me on the back of my chair. His voice was pitched at an intimate level so that only I got the full benefit of his comment.

"Well I was going to swear but I happened to notice the child sitting next to you and made a last minute edit," I whispered back sweetly.

"A little cold?"

"Half frozen. Point me towards the coffee."

"No need," he said and presented me with a steaming mug.

"Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you!" I wrapped my hands around it gratefully and took a healthy sip, scalding my tongue in the process but somehow that didn't bother me as much as it should have. "Oh. Wow. It's good tonight. Who made it?"

"I'm not sure but I suggest we make a motion that whoever did continues to do so. I'd even consider making it a paid position."

"Here. Here," I seconded. "So have they decided what the opening feature will be?"

"No, the ah...film committee is still in debate." Gil gestured at the corner of the room where a rather large gathering of children sprinkled with a couple of adults acting as referees 'discussed' the merits of the various choices. A couple of months ago, the school had decided it would be fun to have a movie night, once a week, so that everyone could get together and socialize in a family setting. It was well received. Friday nights now consisted of a double feature, potluck goodies and the warmth of family and friends. It was a perfect end to a cold week in which much of your attention was given to getting 'through' things rather than any sort of socializing. Gil's fishing trips had dwindled by necessity since the accident so this was a nice alternative. The community gathered at the school around five pm to set up tables and pull out chairs. By six, most of the participants were seated with their dinner selections and news was flowing in all directions. "We're running a little late tonight."

"Well, I don't think anyone really minds that we are. It's good for them to be involved in this process." I watched the corner group. It seemed to be going well. The idea was that the children decided on the opening feature while the second, more mature movie had already been pre-determined. Families with younger children stayed for the first flick and then bundled the little ones off to bed while the rest of us stuck around for the second film. For most of us, the choice of movies being shown was of no real importance. If it was, we could have stayed home and not bothered with all of this fuss. No, it was the social time that took precedence, hands down. "Who are we sharing with tonight?" I asked, gesturing to the two empty seats on the opposite side of the table from us.

"Norm and Tim." He pointed at the two researchers we knew from the lab who were currently making selections from the buffet table.

I laughed. "From the seismology research group?"

"Yeah." My husband looked less than enthused.

"Not generally known as the most social of people. First time for them, right?"

"Yes. "

"For all the time I've known them they've always seemed 'too busy' to bother with this kind of thing. Wonder what brought them out."

Gil's answer was more of a sigh. "I'm forced to conclude...that it must have been something I said." He snuck another glance over at the pair. "Believe me, it wasn't intentional. I'll apologize for it now...up front."

"That bad huh?"

"They're in true form tonight. I don't think they've said two words to each other that haven't resulted in a difference of opinion. To be honest, I don't know how they get anything done. They bicker constantly. If it's not over what's being said it's 'how' it was said. It's exhausting listening to them try to complete a sentence."

"A little like Hodges and Greg."

"No. A lot like Hodges and Greg."

I grinned in sympathy, gesturing to the buffet table. "I put my cookies and your veggie lasagne on the table. I think we better get in line soon or there won't be any left." He offered an arm and I linked my hand through the crook of his elbow, pulling him toward me for a kiss. "Hey, you. How was your day?"

"Fairly unremarkable though I did finally get a chance to take a look at the samples that we brought in from the research station." His hand covered mine and my skin tingled. The buzz of electricity made me absurdly happy.

"Anything interesting?"

"Could be. A little soon to tell but I did see some odd shadows in the core samples. A couple of yours had them too."

"Wow. And you managed to pull yourself away to come tonight. I'm impressed." I flashed my teeth at him, teasing with a heavy hand. "I'm really impressed."

"I would hope by now I would have the sound judgement to pick dinner and a night out with you over some bloody samples."

He looked almost annoyed when he replied so I was quick to answer with, "I'm just playing, Gil. I couldn't wait to see you either." That seemed to mollify him but I'm sure that we were both thinking of times in our not so distant past where we'd let work take priority over our personal lives to the exclusion of all else. "So I guess we'll do some slicing and dicing tomorrow. I'm excited to see the samples under the microscope."

"Hmm," he answered in agreement, reaching for plates. He passed one to me and took another for himself. "Did you finish your notes?"

"Almost," I said, spooning someone's creation of beans and veggies onto my plate. "Another couple of hours should do it but I can catch up anytime. I'll head to the lab with you whenever you're ready. First thing in the morning?"

"Yes. I booked some of the equipment for 8:30 a.m. It'll give us a couple of hours. Someone else has it for the afternoon." We wandered through the line of dishes, selecting what took our fancy and soon our plates were more than full. What was it about the cold that brought out the appetite?

"Sounds good to me. Oh, look, Gil. That chocolate torte you liked from last time. We never did figure out who made it."

"No, we didn't. Hmm. Do you want some?"

"You need to ask?"

That got him grinning. "About chocolate, I guess not." He portioned out a reasonable slice for each of our plates and then we made our way back to our table. Our dinner companions were already seated and apparently in the middle of yet another verbal brawl. Gil almost turned around and headed in a different direction but I stopped him by clearing my throat and greeting the two arguing men. "Hello Norman, Timothy. Nice to see you again. It's been a couple of weeks, hasn't it?" My tone would have done Miss Manners proud. It fairly dripped honey over their heated words.

"At least," Timothy Southerland boomed, standing politely as I approached. With sandy blonde hair and a six foot , four inch build, he was an imposing figure until he broke a smile as wide as the Sahara. Overall, based on my brief encounters with him, I liked him. He had little pretence and seemed to enjoy the intellectual process of discovery as much as anyone I'd ever met. He was charmingly old fashioned; very concerned with the niceties of manners. He was older than me by a few years but younger than Gil with a sort of old-worldly approach to life. He never seemed rushed. Never seemed overwhelmed. Took things in stride for the most part with the noted exception of when he was dealing with his research partner but even that was done with a studied air of patience. Well kempt, well dressed, he seemed a man very content with his chosen path in life.

His partner on the other hand was a bundle of energy waiting to explode. Though clean and tidy, Norman Rockwell's (yes, I kid you not!) style was the antithesis of Sutherland. Long chestnut hair was pulled in tufts at all angles, for an effect that was meant to be hap-hazard but looked totally affected. Oddly shaped, wire-framed, glasses perched on a prominent nose, highlighting huge lightening blue eyes, giving one the overall impression of a surprised owl at first glance. It was disarming and rather endearing when paired with his extensive range of knowledge and his passion for the field of seismology. His standard work uniform of jeans and a rock band shirt seemed to be his fallback mode of dress full stop and tonight was no exception. Though he'd paired it with a long sleeved undershirt, it still maintained that, "it's only clothes," approach to dressing that took very little effort or care. He didn't stand…well, his generation didn't, did they? But he did look up from his plate and give me eye contact and a smile. "15 days, four hours and 16 minutes."

I'm sure my smile faltered. "Excuse me?"

"I believe he means it's been that long since we've seen you," Timothy translated smoothly. "The boy does like his numbers."

"I am no more a boy than you are a lampshade," Norman countered and struck out a hand across the table. After I settled my plate on the table, I took it. He shook it politely and then relaxed back in his chair. "And how are you this evening, Mrs. Grissom?"

"Sara, please…and I'm fine now. Cold earlier, of course."

"Of course, of course," Timothy broke in. "I've been here for almost a year now and I still can't acclimatize."

"It helps if you put forth a little effort to do so," Norman tossed at him genially.

"But since I have no desire to acclimatize, that would be a waste of effort, wouldn't it?" his partner volleyed back with a hearty laugh. "No point now. We don't have much longer."

"Oh, are you heading home soon?" I asked, stabbing a cherry tomato with my fork and popping it into my mouth.

"Yes. A month from now, we'll be heading back to the States. We're out of grant money, out of patience and frankly out of time."

"Good thing too," Norman added around a mouthful of pizza. "We'd probably kill each other if we tried to keep on here."

"Well, we'd be in good company, now wouldn't we, Norm? The Grissom's here are late of the Las Vegas crime lab. A little murder might be a nice distraction from the cold."

"I'll stick with the cold, thanks," my husband replied, with a wave of his hand. "We took this opportunity to get a break from crime scene work. In fact, we've both officially hung up our side arms."

"No thought of going back?" Timothy asked.

"At the moment..." I shook my head.

"Hard life," Norman said, commiserating. "My brother's a detective. New Jersey. Takes a certain strength of character to be on the front line all the time."

"Yes. Yes , it does," I said, quietly. "That, um, numbers trick you showed off with earlier. Very impressive. Was that for my benefit or is it something you do as easily as you breathe?"

"The latter, I'm afraid," Timothy chimed in before Norman could. "Boy's always counting. Rather handy in the field. Trust him more than I do my watch...accurate to a fault...but...it can get a bit tedious." Timothy leaned across the table, smiling broadly. "He literally counts everything. How many steps from Point A to Point B. How much time it takes for the kettle to boil. How long you're in the washroom. Never seen anything like it."

"Give me a break, Tim. It's not on purpose, you know it isn't."

"No, I know, Norm. I know. He can't help it. It's just part of what makes him...him. You see what I mean?"

I nodded. "Sure."

"Most people think I'm a freak," Norm said with a laugh, but one would have to be really insensitive not to hear the ring of truth underlying the words.

"Well, you're in good company at this table," I assured him. "Gil, here, puts bugs on his eggs and me? I never forget anything."

"I'm not sure about the egg thing, though I know there are those on the planet that swear by eating insects...but surely the memory is nothing but a blessing." Timothy flashed those charming dimples at me and I had to grin right back at him.

"You'd think, right?" I said with a shrug, and selected some of the bean salad with my fork.

"Photographic?" Norm asked.

"No. But close." Seeing he was waiting for a little more explanation, I swallowed my mouthful of food and said, "I notice everything. Details...are like candy to my brain. And I retain it. Whether I want to or not. "

"Sara explained it to me once by likening to a file cabinet," Gil said. "Everybody's brain takes in more information than we are aware of processing. Eventually, we let go of what we don't need and file the important stuff in our long term memory. Sara's brain is a little overactive on the retention side and she's able to access memories easier than most people. She remembers not just the moment, but the sights and sounds and what people were wearing in extensive detail...well, you get the idea. Makes it hard to win an argument with her." He nudged me playfully. "Or a game of scrabble."

"Not to mention...some of the more horrific aspects of your former profession," Norman said, his eyes sympathetic.

"Exactly. My brain has a nasty little habit of replaying some of those aspects over and over in my dreams." Though the conversation had turned serious, I tried to lighten the atmosphere a little. "But, there are some wonderful benefits to having a memory like mine. Do you know I can recall everything about the first time Gil and I had coffee together?" I slipped my hand over Gil's as it rested on the table and leaned into his side. "I can remember how quiet it was; there were just us, you see, the barista and one other couple. Remember, Gil?"

He smiled at me in that serious, sensuous was he has about him and I could feel my insides tingle. "Hmm mmm. Like it was yesterday."

"It was yesterday in my heart," I told him simply and then continued telling the story. "Soft, bluesy jazz lilting from the sound system. Quiet, almost whispered conversation. And the smells! The smells are embedded so deeply, I can call them up at will. Sweetly scented coffee mixed with the leather of the deep armchairs we sprawled in...the spicy but simple scent of his cologne, the hint of fresh baked bread in the air. The lights were muted and vanilla candles glowed from clear glass basins. There was a snapping cedar log in the stone-worked fireplace." I peeked at Gil, and just as if no time had passed, I again felt the longing I felt that day. "The blue of his eyes, so deep and clear...I lost myself in them time and time again as we spoke." And just like before I know I stared.

And just like before, I know he wanted me to.

Gil slipped his arm around my shoulder and the conversation flowed on about the day's work and progress made, but I didn't participate. I'd drifted back into the past and wallowed in the blissful recollection of that first night.

The bistro, on the surface, was a simple but comfortable setting for a conversation between two virtual strangers but that night it was also served as the setting for my first taste of mature, seductive romance.

Our words were a collection of terms about academics and logic and options, but our bodies spoke another language all together. There were leans, and accidental brushes of skin, and intriguing little smiles coated in blatant curiosity. More importantly, there was a connection; a humming, throbbing link between us that made the whole evening feel dangerous and other-worldly.

We were the last ones there when the barista told us gently that she was closing. I can remember that the sense of disappointment I felt staggered me. I remembered standing awkwardly, intending to put on my coat but he was there before me, holding up my jacket so I could slip into it. The gesture was so unexpected it took me a second to gather my bearings and accept his offering. I pulled my ponytail from my collar and reached for my purse. I don't know whose hands were shaking more but simple things like leaving a tip and gathering my book bag seemed quite difficult. We walked to the door and he held it open for me. Such a simple thing really, but it touched me.

I was in love with him then and despite the challenges and changes we'd faced in our relationship, I was just as in love with him now...maybe more so. No, definitely more so.

Eventually, I joined back into the conversation but it didn't last long. The kids had picked an opening feature and soon the lights were dimmed and the film began to roll.

We readjusted our chairs so that we could see the screen better and settled in for a lively, animated comedy. Just before the credits began, Gil leaned in and whispered into my ear. "We lost you for a while. Where did you go?"

I linked my fingers with his, wishing we were somewhere more private but more than willing to share. "Just a quick walk down memory lane."

"Good memories, I hope," he said softly, bringing my fingers to his lips.

"Only the best."


	14. N is for Naked Men and String Cheese

N is for Naked Men and String Cheese

"Gil?"

"Yes, Sara?"

"You know what would be the WICKEDEST name for a book?"

"I'm afraid to ask."

"There, there, blue eyes...don't be afraid. I'll protect you." She made a move to get up from the chair but I clamped down on her wrist just in time.

"And just where do you think you're going?"

"To get my cape."

"Sara, you have to stay in the chair until Dr. Cromwell comes back."

"But I need my cape!" She wailed and kicked her feet mutinously against the padded chair. "Ahhh crap!"

"What?"

"I can't feel my toes."

I sighed. "Well, that's par for the course." I looked at my watch. Fifteen minutes. Yep. Right on time. Aesthetic and dental visits. Helluva a way to spend a Saturday. In Resolute Bay, nonetheless. But, it had to be done, I told myself. A filling had cracked and Sara needed to get it seen to before there was any more damage. There was nothing for it but to make an appointment and get the work finished. Thank goodness it was only a local aesthetic. The effects would wear off quickly enough once we left the office. But in the meantime...

"And my feet have run away. Runned runned away."

I pulled my mind back to the present. "What?"

"My feet have run away, Gil! This is a catastrophe!"

"No...no." I picked up one of her legs and wriggled it. "They're right where you left them. Attached to your legs."

She shook her head sadly. "No use in trying to protect me, Gil. I know they're gone." She gave a mighty sniff. "First the toes go numb then...then the feet...they run away. It's the age old story of podiatry gone bad or as they say in Latin: Feetus gonus. I'm just another victim. Too bad. I liked having feet."

Trying to head her off at the pass, I said, "Sara, it's just the drugs-"

"YOU FED MY FEET DRUGS! Dammit Gil! No wonder they ran! What kind of monster are you?" She pointed a very accusing finger and shook it vigorously. "You're sick. Sick. Sick. Sick!"

I sighed. Then I sighed again and passed the buck. Sara was hard enough to control without having her angry at me. "I didn't feed them drugs, the dentist did." Didn't work.

"Oh, so you're in league with the dentist, are you? I should have known. Can't trust those sneaky buggers...always breaking into your house in the middle of the night trying to abscond with your molars! They've got a racket going on with the Tooth Fairy. Dirty little thieves. If dentists wore socks they'd probably steel those too. "

The jump in topic had my head spinning. "What?"

"Whaa-a-at?" she parroted in song and walked her fingers along the arm of the chair towards the dental instruments. "OOOoooo! SHINY!"

Wondering why I hadn't seen that move coming, I cursed under my breath. Stealthily I pushed the cart with my foot, using the bottom lip of the dental chair as a blind. The cart rolled just out of her reach. "Never mind. Tell me the title of the book."

The rolling of the cart delighted Sara. "I'm magic!" she crowed. "I'm magic. Look at what I did!" She wriggled her fingers at the cart. "I'll do it again. Watch. Watch!" She squinted and wriggled her fingers again but when that had no effect, she shook her entire hand at it. Her disappointment was really something to behold. "It's broken! I broke it!" she wailed, holding it up for my inspection. "Now what am I going to do? All my magical powers are gone! I'm damaged, Gil! Damaged goods. Who's going to want me now? May as well go back to Vegas and set up shop as an elephant shaver. I'm ruined! Ruined!"

There were actual tears welling up in her eyes! Oh cripes! "Sara...Sara...come on, now, tell me the title of this book of yours."

Maybe she was magic because the tears dried up instantly. "I have a book?" She looked down into her lap and around the chair, almost falling out of it at one point. I managed to snag the waistband of her jeans just in time. She slapped my hand away playfully. "Not now, Gil. I'm trying to find my book. I can satisfy your primal needs in a minute." Then she flipped to her stomach to look farther. "No book here. No book there. I can't see a book anywhere. Have to say, Gil, it concerns me a little."

"What does, Dr. Seuss?"

"That you're seeing things that aren't there. Little unsettling." She rolled to her side, propped her head on her hand and gazed at me with 'professional' sympathy. "Gil, tell me, when did you first start noticing that you were losing your mind?"

I rolled my eyes. "About five minutes ago."

"You know, if you're not going to take this seriously, how on earth do you expect me to help you? Therapy's a two-way street. You've got to give to get back. You've got to be committed to the process. It's a long road but it's easier if we travel together."

"You think I need therapy?"

"That is why we're here, isn't it?"

Grateful that the full onslaught of tears had been averted, I shrugged. "Obviously. I'll try to do better."

"Good. Now, what seems to be the problem?"

"I have a wife who has a low tolerance for pain killers and anaesthetics," I answered glibly wondering what she'd say to that."

"Fascinating! And what happens when she takes them?"

"She...she's a little unpredictable. She hallucinates. Her sex drive increases," I added, thinking back to the last time.

"Oh. Well. I can help you with that. Divorce her. There. Problem solved."

"Oh. Alright then. I'll start the proceedings as soon as we finish here."

"There. Now that we've got you all figured out...how about we blow this joint and...and..."

"Yes?"

"Get a burger!"

"Sara, you're a vegetarian!"

"I didn't say I was going to eat it, Gil."

"Then what would you do with it-? You know what? Never mind. Doesn't matter."

"Doesn't matter...doesn't matter...WHERE IN THE HELL HAVE I HEARD THAT BEFORE?"

I winced at her shout. "Shhhh. You're being a little loud-"

But she ignored me. "Oh-oh...oh...yeah! _'I guess it doesn't matter anymore...There's no use in me a-crying, I've done everything and I'm sick of trying...I've thrown away my nights and I've wasted all my days over you...'"_

I was in fits, struggling to contain myself. Sara was not amused but at least she'd lowered her voice.

"What? What's the matter? I thought you liked my singing."

"I do," I choked out, still not quite able to pull it together.

"No. No you don't. You're laughing at me."

"No, no, I'm not." She wasn't at all convinced. "Really," I choked out.

She folded her arms, very cross now. "It's not like you've got any right to judge the way I sing."

"I know-"

"Just 'cause you can't carry a tune in a bucket!"

That got me laughing harder. "Be nice."

She growled. "You're still laughing at me!"

"I'm not. I'm not. I like your voice. You know I like it."

"Then what's the matter?"

"The song is-was-wasn't-"

"I sang the right words."

"Yes, yes you did."

"Then why are you laughing at me?"

"Wrong tune, Sara."

"What do you mean, wrong tune? I was singing, '_I Guess it Doesn't Matter Anymore_."

"You were singing those lyrics all right but that wasn't the song you were singing."

"I think you're confused Gil."

"No, I think you're confused, Sara."

"Really, then what TUNE do you think I was singing?"

"The roller coaster one." When she looked at me blankly, I tried...TRIED...to demonstrate without cracking up again. "_Every day, it's a getting closer, going faster than a roller coaster, love like that will surely come my way..."_

She clucked her tongue at me. "See. Totally confused. That wasn't the song I was singing at all." Then she opened her mouth and sang the same section she did before in exactly the same way. And despite the fact that the rhythms of the two songs she was warbling were totally different, for the second time she managed to merge the lyrics from one and the melody from the other and make it sound like they fit. Of course, this time she added the flourish of singing it at the top of her lungs as if volume was going to convince me that she was in the right. She even stood up on the chair for the big finish.

"AHHHHEEMMM!" On the heels of that outburst, the dental assistant appeared in the door, looking very menacing in white hush puppies.

Sara dropped back into the chair like a load of bricks. "CRIPES, it's the cops! Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"

Nurse Atkins folded her arms and gave Sara a very stern look. "Is everything alright in here, Dr. Grissom?"

"Yes, just fine. Sara's just singing. Loudly," I added and almost lost it again when Sara stuck her tongue out at me.

"You're just jealous!" she shot back and then turned back to the nurse. "We've got him on conspiracy to commit jealousy and the perjury of laughing. Book him, Dan-O!"

The nurse frowned, obviously not happy with being disturbed over something as trivial as singing. "You know, we have other patients here besides your wife."

"Right. We'll keep that in mind," I told her while nimbly removing the suction tube from my wife's hand and placing it back on the ready stand. Obviously Dr. Cromwell had failed to inform Nurse Atkins about the possible complications regarding Sara's treatment.

"This is a professional office. We don't have time for these shenanigans."

"Yes," I replied. "I'm aware of that. But if you have a problem with her singing loudly, you might not want to stick around this afternoon. Things have the potential to get much worse."

"Hmmpphhh," was all the nurse said before she turned on her heel and left.

"Who pissed in her cornflakes?" Sara asked belligerently, and kicked one of her shoes in the direction of the doorway. Thankfully her aim...and her timing...was a little off.

"Sara , relax, it's fine."

She snorted. "Shanani-nanni-nanigans! WHO SAYS THAT!" she shouted at the empty door way. Again she made a move to leap off the chair but when I resisted she flopped back down.

"Look, just settle down. Dr. Cromwell will be back in a minute and soon this will be all over. You just need to relax."

Surprisingly, she righted herself on the chair, reclined, and closed her eyes. I watched her take a few deep breaths and watched the tension drain from her body. Things were quiet for a moment. Really quiet. Too quiet. She was thinking. And not good thoughts. A little smart-allecky smirk twitched at the corner of her mouth...so when she opened her mouth I braced for the worst. "Hey, Gil?"

"Yes, Sara?"

"What do you think of Dr. Cromwell?"

Not quite sure what she was getting at, I answered cautiously. "He's alright, I suppose. Word is he's a good dentist."

She giggled madly, her eyes still closed. "No, no, no, no, no! I said, what do you THINK of Dr. Cromwell?"

"I'm not sure what you mean. I've only met him that one time before today-"

"His looks, Gil! Geesh!"

I blinked in surprise. "His looks? Excuse me?"

"Yeah. His looks." She opened her eyes and pinned me with a stare. "Do you think he's attractive? Do you?"

"I-um-"

"Do you like the way he fills out a lab coat?"

This was a shift. I was used to Sara's um...passions being stirred up while under the influence of medications but usually they were directed at me. _What in the hell was in that shot Cromwell had given her?_ "Sara-what are you-?"

"He's tall enough, don't you think. And he's got those dreamy green eyes!" She fluttered her eyelashes at me and made kissy lips.

I have to admit, I was a little taken aback...no, scratch that. I was jealous as hell. Maybe she had grounds to have me arrested after all. "He's alright, I guess," I muttered back, determined to remain cool.

"Cute butt, too. Just yummy."

Despite the fact that the, 'For Better or Worse' part of our marriage vows was being severely tested I managed to answer evenly, "I didn't notice."

"How could you not notice!" she demanded, her voice almost cooing! "It's scrumptious and it's just begging to be squeezed. I mean, it's not as good as yours...and...Catherine's not really a butt girl but hey...I think she'd-"

"Wait. What?"

"Catherine. I think he'd be a great match for the Cat. The Catster...the Cat's Meow. Meow. Meow. Meowwwwww."

All kinds of relief washed over me and I sat back in the rolling chair so hard I almost flipped the damn thing over. "Catherine. You think he'd be a good match for Catherine?"

"Yeah. What were you thinking? That I was trying to set you up with him?" She shook her head. "Nope. Nope, nope, nope. You're mine, Bugman. Dr. Cromwell will just have to walk on because you're already taken."

I was actually feeling light-headed. "Ahem...um...what about Jim? I thought you liked the idea of Jim and Catherine as a couple."

"Yep. Yep, I do! But time's a wastin' and neither of them is getting any younger so...I figure if they can't get it together, maybe it's time for me to step in and help things along. I think I'll email her later on when we get home. It's a helluva commute but, Catherine's a girl with gumption. I'm sure she's up for the challenge. Hmmm."

"What?"

"I can't feel my tongue." She stuck it out and gave it a hard pinch.

I pulled her hand away and gave it a kiss to distract her. "Stop that. You may not feel it now but you're going to feel it later."

She smiled at me then...that special Sara smile complete with melted chocolate eyes. "I liked that."

"Did you?"

"Um hum. Do it again."

I did and it set her to giggling. And rambling. "Kiss and make it better. KISS AND MAKE IT BETTER. Better make it better. Better make it butter." She snorted, delighted with herself. " Betty bought a bit of butter...but she said this butter's bitter...if I put it in my batter...it will make my batter bitter but a bit of better butter...will make my bitter batter better...so Betty bought a bit of better butter to make her bitter batter better. That Betty's got way too much time on her hands. Bitter butter batter. What a crackpot! You know, you've got really nice hands, Gil," she said as she held the hand she was still clutching up and pressed her palm against mine. "I really like your fingers. They're long and there's ten of them...oh, that doesn't sound right, does it? Not quite "P" "C". And we must be politically correct, right Gil. We have to be aware. You're going to think I love you just because you have ten fingers. Don't worry. If you lost one, I'd still love you. I might think you were a little freaky but...I'd still love you anyway. I could prove it, Gil. I could. We could cut one off and-"

"No, no, I think I'll take your word for it," I interrupted, plucking my still intact digits away from her grasping hands.

"Now I've got you all worried. I've given you a complex."

"A headache at least."

"There's nothing to worry about, Gil. Nothing at all. I'd still take you home because, you know what, Gil? Home is where the heart is. And you're my heart so I'd take you home to where the heart was so we could be home together. Where the heart is. Well, at least that's where most people keep their hearts. I left my heart in San Francisco so if I want to take it home again I better start walking because it's a long way to Tiparary, even if you go out walking after midnight. Out in the moonlight. Just like we used to do. Down a long, long, way down a long winding road. Long, long ago. But at least it's not in a galaxy far, far away. I wouldn't be able to get there and back before dinner. "She stretched and then pulled her legs up into a yoga candlestick position and held there for a while. Just how she kept her balance on that chair, I'm not sure, but she did. "Speaking of dinner. I'm hungry."

"We just had lunch and you can't eat anything until that numbness wears off."

"OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!" She bellowed and let her legs flop bonelessly back down to the chair. "'_Twas brillig, and the slithy toves, Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe..."_

"Dr. Grissom, really, this cannot continue!" The nurse had reappeared, looking more stern than before...which frankly was quite a feat. I was very impressed.

Sara was not. "Uh-oh! She's back! Hide the cornflakes!"

"Excuse me?" the nurse demanded.

"This is a NO PISSING ZONE!" Sara said, waving her arms madly.

Nurse Atkins looked at Sara with a sort of fascinated horror. "What on earth is she talking about?"

"I prefer my cereal without urine, thank you very much! Back away, you yellow-streaming fiend!"

"Sara, settle down. Nobody's pissing on anything," I said, with in a firm tone. Lot of good that did.

"She's out for revenge. There's no stopping her!" Sara cried and leapt off the chair in a sudden movement. She circled around to the back and used it as a shield. "Leave the poor cornflakes alone! Let them die with dignity!"

"That does it. I've had enough of this nonsense! I won't stand here and be insulted and I won't have this office turned into a circus! Dr. Grissom, take your wife and leave!" Nurse Atkins flung an imperious finger in the general direction of the exit and waited for us to comply, her breast heaving in agitation.

She was the perfect target. Unmoving and larger than life.

This time Sara's shoe hit with deadly accuracy! It flew through the air with a precision that was remarkable, hitting Nurse Atkins square in the forehead. Luckily, for Nurse Atkins, it was one of those ballerina-styled, soft-soled, house slippers that Sara had brought with her to wear while she was in the dentist's chair. Had it been the heavy boots Sara had worn outside for the visit, Nurse Atkins would have been out cold.

Well...if you thought the dental assistant was upset before...

Nurse Atkins made a noise that was a cross between a screech of outrage and a battle cry and came at Sara, both barrels loaded.

"EEEEEEEEKKKKKKK!" Sara yelped and began circling the room in the opposite direction. "She's crazy, Gil! She's crazy! She's going to kill me and pee on everything!"

Do I need to add, all hell broke loose?

Sara and the nurse chased each other in endless circles. Cotton swabs and gauze pads were used as ammunition. Wheelie chairs were used as obstacles. Insults were flung. The volume level increased exponentially!

I guarded the sharp instruments and syringes, making sure that they were not brought into the mix, and tried to verbally talk both women down. Needless to say, I was less that ineffective.

"WHAT IN THE HELL IS GOING ON IN HERE!"

We all froze, dead in our tracks, our eyes drawn to the figure that now towered in the door frame to the patients' examination room. Dr. Cromwell's six foot, six inch appeared massive and that sight, coupled with his deep, booming, baritone managed to restore order better than anything I could have done. "Well," he said, levelling a bushy-eyed stare at Sara and the Nurse, "I'm waiting."

Both women began stuttering at once, flinging accusations and excuses to every corner of the room. Phrases like, "...then she threw her shoe..." and "...I prefer my cereal plain, thank-you very much..." peppered the verbal back-peddling until Cromwell held up a hand and looked to me for guidance.

"Sara had a reaction to the shot you gave her earlier and...Nurse Atkins got in the way."

"Alright," Cromwell said, evenly, "let's see if we can get things back on track here. Nurse Atkins, I'm sure there are other duties you should be seeing to right now. We'll talk about this later."

"Yes, Dr. Cromwell," the nurse muttered and slipped silently away on her hush puppies.

"And as for you, Mrs. Grissom. I need you to take your chair so we can fix that filling of yours."

Sara looked about to argue so I hustled to her side. "Here, dear, let me help you."

Sara gave Dr. Cromwell a suspicious look but she complied. However, that didn't stop her from muttering, "Hope he doesn't pee on everything."

Cromwell's eyes met mine in question and I just shook my head. He caught my meaning and ignored Sara's comment entirely. "All right, Sara. We're just going to see if that freezing took well enough and then we'll get to work. Just give me a minute to right things in here." He went about moving trays and chairs back to their natural state.

As for Sara, she seemed to be settling down into a more comfortable phase. She lay in the chair, staring up at the bright light that the dentist had turned on, with an almost glazed look in her eyes. "Hey, Gil?"

"Yes, Sara?"

"You know what would be the WICKEDEST name for a book?"

"No. What?"

"Naked Men and String Cheese."

Before I could answer, Cromwell was seated again. "Okay, Sara. Let's get at that tooth."

**Author's Note**: Part of Sara's tirade of babbling is quoted from the following sources:

**Every Day**, Buddy Holly

**I Guess It Doesn't Matter Anymore**, Buddy Holly

**Walking After Midnight**, Patsy Cline

**Opening Credits**, Star Wars

and

**JABBERWOCKY, ****Lewis Carroll **(from _Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There_, 1872)


	15. O is for Observation

O is for Observation

For the second time in as many days, I was sitting in doctor's office with Sara, only this time it wasn't the dentist's examination room and Sara wasn't the patient. No, we were currently warming the seats of the most uncomfortable chairs it had ever been my misfortune to sit upon, waiting for news about one of our colleagues. We'd been there for over an hour, having made the trip from the lab through nightmarish conditions in record time. The colleague we'd driven here had been taken into the examination area immediately upon arrival and there had been a word about her condition since.

There hadn't been much in the way of communication on Sara's end either. Upon entry, she'd hung back, watching as I went through the motions of admitting Charissa Chadwick and helping her fill out forms, neither hindering nor contributing to the process. As soon as Charissa had been assisted into the treatment rooms by an orderly, she'd stomped her way over to a plastic chair and slumped into its unforgiving form, folding her arms crossly as her eyes drilled holes in the television screen that hung in the corner of the room. Any comment I sent her way was either ignored completely or met with a mono-syllabic response and since we were the only two people in the waiting room, the passing of time began to take on much the same form as watching paint dry.

Perhaps, it would have been smarter if I'd just let things be. It was obvious that Sara was mad. Just as obvious that most of Sara's anger was directed at Charissa. It was also apparent that Sara was feeling guilty that Charissa had had an unexpected reaction to the prank that Sara had played on the clinic's first patient of the night and that she was angry at herself too. All that was to be expected considering the situation we now found ourselves in but...what was slowly and painfully becoming clear is that Sara was also fairly angry at me which was something that I found positively baffling. Moreover, with every short, terse response from her mouth, I was finding it harder and harder to be sympathetic to her feelings and was beginning to get a little hot under the collar myself.

In fact, I was just working up the nerve to call her on her attitude when she shifted in the chair beside me and sat up straight.

"I'm going to the bathroom," she announced suddenly and jumped edgily to her feet.

Considering that she was looking everywhere but directly at me, any other man would have decided to sit just where he was and wait her return but I'd had just about enough of her hostility to do me for the night and stood with her. "Good idea," I said, and gestured for her to lead the way.

"I don't need an escort, Gil."

"I didn't say you did. Since you're going, I figured I might as well go too."If her tone was broken glass, mine was sunshine and butterflies.

Two patches of bright red colour bloomed on her cheeks. "I think there's only one facility."

"That's alright. I'll wait in the hall."

Her shoulders hitched in a tight, irritated little shrug and she strode off, tossing words in my direction as she went. "Fine. Suit yourself."

"Thank-you. I will," I muttered under my breath and trailed her to the back of the clinic where the washroom and vending machines were housed. Things were a little more private here and if we were going to have words, this area was probably the most suited to that activity than anywhere else available at the moment.

So, I leaned against the wall, checking my email messages on my smart phone. A few of the researchers from the lab had written, asking me how Charissa was doing. Seeing as there was nothing I could say on that point, I didn't respond but put a reminder in my agenda to do so within the next hour whether we had news or not.

Sara still wasn't out of the washroom. Either she was hiding out or trying to talk herself out of her mad. I figured it would be a good idea to wait a few more minutes before I rapped on the door. Those 'few more minutes' passed and I sighed and straightened. Figuring she'd had long enough to avoid me I approached the door and knocked sharply.

There was no answer but I heard movement inside. A couple of clicks later, the handle twisted and she swung the door wide. Her eyes were suspiciously bright and there were still high spots of colour on her cheeks so I knew she hadn't quite managed to regain control. In fact, it looked to me that she'd maybe lost a little more control in the privacy of the bathroom than even she had expected. Still, that didn't stop her from taking a firm grip on herself now and staring me down. When I failed to rise to the bait, she arched a challenging eyebrow at me and then turned back to the sink to rinse her hands.

I hung back, lounging in the door way, watching her silently as she lathered and rinsed before turning off the tap. Shaking off the excess water, she looked up and caught my reflection in the mirror. Okay...so angry wasn't exactly the word I would have used to describe Sara's expression...hostile was closer. Hurt was definitely part of the mix too. Obviously, there was something a lot deeper going on inside that beautiful head of hers than I'd originally thought. I opened my mouth to question her but she beat me to the verbal starting line.

"Don't say it."

"Say what?"

"I was trying to make her pee turn blue not poison her."

"Allergic reactions to Methylene Blue are rare," I replied neutrally, letting her lead the conversation.

She humphed. "I didn't expect her to react like she did. Besides," she said shooting me a dirty look, before wiping her hands furiously on a paper towel, "she deserved what she got." Finished with the necessary hygiene regime, she tried to push her out of the unisex restroom. Unfortunately for her, she wasn't able to get that far.

I could feel my eyebrows brush my hairline but I decided to remain mute in the face of her bold words. I also refused to make way for her so that forced her into a much more offensive frame of mind.

"What? You didn't think she did?" she challenged me, determined to provoke a response.

"Am I allowed to contribute?"

The fact that my tone was so bland only served to egg her on. "'_Oh Dr. Grissom! I've been absolutely dying to meet you! Oh, your last research paper was so...so insightful and...and...articulate...I swear I couldn't put it down until I finished...every...last...word! I couldn't believe my luck in being assigned out here at the same time as you were! What are the odds! What are the odds of me being shipped out on my first assignment and being posted at the same lab as a legend in the field of entomology! Just what are the odds?"_ Her mimicry of the chesty blonde's voice wasn't exact but it wasn't that far off, either. Add that to the fact that she'd pretty much recited verbatim what the other researcher had said so I began to get an inkling about why Sara was so upset. "Just who the hell does she think she's kidding with that breathy Marilyn Monroe act of hers?"

I was still analyzing her impression of Charissa so I stammered, "I-I think that's just...just the normal way she talks."

She rolled her eyes and nudged her way past me without comment.

"Are you-are you jealous, Sara?"

She hadn't gotten very far but my question halted her steps completely. "I don't know, Gilbert," she replied sweetly, "should I be?"

'Gilbert'. Crap. I was in deeper than I thought. "N-No, of course not."

"N-No, of course not," she parroted back. "Well, I'm glad that's settled. WHEEWHHH! What a load off my mind!" She whirled around and took off a second time.

Doing a strong impression of a Peter Pan stitched shadow, I dogged her heels. "Sara, don't you think you're over-reacting just a bit here? She's just a little on the enthusiastic side."

"She's a frigging viper, that's what she is."

"She's not that bad."

"She's got more moves than a Vegas chorus dancer!"

"So she's a little...um...friendly. She sort of reminds me of Catherine, I suppose."

"Let me tell you something Gil, if Catherine EVER put the moves on you like that tramp did today, there is every possibility that I would have dropped her where she stood. And I like Catherine. Charissa should count herself lucky I only messed with her coffee." She stopped short, having almost made it to the waiting room, and turned to me so quickly I was forced to take a step back. "Wanna make a guess as to how many times she found an excuse to cozy up to you today?"

"I-I don't know." At her snort of derision, I protested, "Really. I was so caught up in my lab work...I hadn't noticed."

"Her hands were everywhere! How could you not notice?" She came closer and pursed her lips. "In your hair," she said, letting her fingers comb through my curls. "On your shoulders," she continued, circling me as her hand drifted across my collarbone, "down your back..."

"You know how distracted...how single-minded I get when I'm working. The building could explode and I probably wouldn't notice."

"Six, Gil," she bit out, slapping the flat of her hand against my chest...and not too gently I might add. "The answer is six."

"'Six' what?"

"The number of times she found an excuse to invade your space and paw you. Five times before I deliberately made a point of introducing myself as your wife and once after. "

Totally taken aback, I answered...stupidly... "That many, huh? Wow."

Sara growled. She actually bared her teeth. "Okay, that's it! I don't know what pisses me off more! The fact that she did it or the fact that you had no idea that she was doing it and let her keep on doing it!"

"Sara, that doesn't make any sense."

"You know what I mean! Maybe it didn't come out right but don't stand there and tell me you don't know what I mean when you bloody well should know what I mean! I-ah-you-umphhhmmm..."

My mouth was on hers before I even realized I'd acted. Had I taken the time to weigh the pros and cons of that course of action, I probably would have gone a different route but I hadn't and I was in it now so it was full steam ahead. Problem was, even though I'd taken Sara by surprise, she was still a little too worked up to give in to my um...questionable powers of seduction...so it didn't take much for her to pull back and start in on me again.

"Dammit, Gil, that isn't going to work. I'm too mad at you to-umphhhmmmm..."

This time my kiss was much more deliberate. This time my lips were determined to evoke a passionate response that had very little to do with angry words and everything to do with making her realize how little impact Charissa Chadwick's actions had on me. It wasn't easy. She took a little persuading...but, hey, I wasn't complaining. Kissing Sara when she was angry was a little like kissing fire; you knew you were going to be burnt but the underlying heat made it all worthwhile.

I kept it going, lips on lips, all arms and hands and breath, until I felt her give...felt the tension drain from her frame and knew I might be safe enough to pull back without fear of getting slugged before I could draw a breath. And then, before she could utter a word, I leaned in so that we were almost nose to nose and said, "Charissa Chadnick could have stripped naked and danced around me performing pagan fertility rites and I probably wouldn't have noticed. Hell, I certainly wouldn't have cared. I was working, Sara and she doesn't have neither the intelligence nor the correct sub-species of insect genitalia to distract me from my research. You, on the other hand...all you have to do is breathe and all rational thought leaves my body. I don't blame you for being upset...okay...um...irate...that she was behaving improperly but you have to believe me when I say she barely registered on my radar today."

For a long moment, she just stared at me. I could almost see her brain turning my words round and round in her head but her expression gave nothing away. When she finally decided to speak, I braced myself for an explosion, but that thankfully that proved unnecessary. She folded her arms and leaned back against the nearest wall. "If it were anyone else but you, Gilbert Grissom..." she said and then looked down at her shoes with a weary sigh. "I suppose you think I should apologize."

"To me? Hell no. Obviously I had a part to play in this...even though I wasn't totally aware of what was going on." She peeped up under the shade of her lashes to see if I was being sincere and must have been convinced because she reached out a hand to me and I took it. "Charissa however..."

If my hand had suddenly transformed into a poisonous snake I don't think she could have dropped it any faster. "Like hell-"

"Not for playing the trick on her...because frankly, I think she deserved that...but for the unexpected reaction."

Sara's expression was still mutinous. "Apologise to that blonde, sexually over stimulated, conniving little sneak?"

"Yes, to that, 'blonde, sexually over stimulated, conniving little sneak,'" I replied, grinning at her. "It's the least you can do after landing her here in the hospital."

"I'll think about it," she told me, pushing off the wall to walk with me back to the waiting room, and for the moment I had to be satisfied with that.


	16. P is for Payback

P is for Payback

"Formaldehyde...in her peroxide bottle."

"That's not funny, Sara."

"I wasn't going for 'funny', Gil."

"Besides, I think she's a natural blonde."

"Bull-"

"Hold still."

"You're rubbing too hard!"

"I wouldn't have to if...you'd...just-"

Pregnant pause.

"Compost blended with her shampoo."

"Dammit Sara! Turn around. I almost got this in your mouth."

"Your bedside manner is atrocious, Dr. Grissom."

"Keep it up and we'll see how bad it can get. You're lucky I'm helping at all. This childishness is getting really old."

"But she-"

"I don't want to hear it."

Very pregnant pause.

"I could get Greg to send me that computer virus-"

"You just don't know when to give up-"

"NO! Wait! Got it! GOT IT! Polar bear poop in her purse! We can-"

"'WE?'"

"Yeah, we-"

"No."

"No?"

"NO!"

"Fine."

"So it's done?"

Silence.

"Saraaaa-"

"Gilberttttt-"

"Promise me."

"No."

"Fine. You can figure out how to get this off yourself."

"You're not serious! I can't even see it-"

"Try me."

More silence. And even more silence.

"Okay, I'm heading back to the lab."

"No! Wait, Gil!"

"Yes, Sara?"

Deep sigh. "Fine."

"Promise me it's done."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes, okay!"

"Good. Hold still."

"Ow."


	17. Q is for Quark

_The ABC'S of CSI: Cold, Snow and Ice_

_Q is for Quark_

"Okay…what the hell is a 'quark'?"

"Are you still at it?"

"Yes. Shhh. I'm trying to concentrate."

"Then stop asking me questions."

My head popped up in confusion, finally tuning into the conversation. When my mental processor caught up to what he'd said, I shook my head and grinned. "I wasn't…I didn't-I mean-"

"You asked me what the hell a quark was?"

"No…I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to the phone."

"Ahhh. That makes sense." There was the rustling of an irritated flick of newsprint as he turned a page. "And quark is a kind of cheese."

I shot him a dirty look over the top of my android phone. "Now, now, dear, just because you're feeling put out, doesn't mean you get to take it out on me."

He returned my look with an equally challenging one of his own. "I still say Alchemy Classic is a better version of that game." When I didn't rise to his bait, he added, "I should think that as a scientist you'd agree. Its combinations are much more rational than the android version and generally have a decent scientific base."

"Rational, maybe, but it's sure as hell not as fun as this one. HA HAAA! I just made Albert Einstein! Not as scientific my ass. Choke on that, Bugman!"

He groaned. "How many do you have now?"

I was practically dancing in my seat. "Two hundred and ninety-nine out of three hundred and sixty!"

"That's impossible. You've only been at it an hour."

I shrugged, not above gloating a little at his expense. "That's right…you were at it for hours yesterday and you…hmmm, wait, let me see…oh that's right! You made two hundred and sixty-two combinations!"

"Would have made more if you hadn't-um-distracted me," he tossed back, laying his paper aside and straightening in his chair. There was a gleam in his eye that I recognized all too well.

"Uh uh. No way! Not until I finish the game," I told him in no uncertain terms.

"You didn't let me finish yesterday-"

"As I said, you were at this for hours yesterday. Not only did you kill my battery but you monopolized my phone for pretty much the whole day so keep that cute butt of yours planted in that chair, Dr. Grissom. I have no intention of pandering to your base urges until I'm finished this game."

He snorted. "Base urges!" The gleam in his eyes had transformed to a full out blaze. "And just what urges would those be?"

"You know very well what ones and I said not until I'm finished."

He ignored my warning and settled onto the couch with me, deliberately inching in close enough to see my screen. "Looks like I had some of the combinations you don't. I could help you finish-"

"No."

"Give you a couple of hints," he said silkily, turning his mouth to that sweet sensitive spot on my neck that made my toes curl.

"Stop it!"

"Stop what? Teasing you or…" his teeth sunk into my skin lightly and I felt my bones melt, "…or _teasing_ you?"

I flicked the power button on my phone and dropped my hands in my lap. "Don't think I don't know what you're up to."

He chuckled. "I think it's pretty obvious what I'm…up…too." He plucked the phone out of my hand before I could protest and leaned in, pushing me back so that he could take full advantage of my position and settled between my legs.

I giggled and slapped his back lightly as his lips continued to dance about my face and neck. "You're just trying to keep me from finishing the game before you do! Cheater. This little seduction scene of yours is just a means to aaahh-nnnn end."

"Guilty," he said without an inch of remorse. One of his hands cupped me rather intimately, making me shudder in sheer pleasure. "Is it working?"

I wrapped myself around him like an octopus enveloping its prey. "What do you think," I whispered in a dangerous tone.

_Author's note: Okay, short and sweet but at least it's up. PS…the game they are playing is the Android app version of Alchemy. Better than sex? No, of course not! But highly addictive in its own right. You have been warned!_


	18. R is for Remedial Reading

_R is for Remedial Reading_

My lab work was at one of those hurry up and wait intervals so I was working long hours, seeing only minor results, and basically babysitting my experiments in preparation for bringing them to the next stage.

I was starting to go cross eyed from reviewing and charting and making notes. I was getting a little sick of stale vending machine fare. I was starting to miss all those hellish years I put in at the Vegas lab.

I was even starting to miss Hodges.

_Holy crap. I needed a distraction and fast._

I scrolled my finger across my laptop touch pad and minimized my data spreadsheet and pulled up my email. Surely there would be something in there to pull me out of my scientific funk. If not, I could always surf for a while.

Turns out, as luck would have it, Greg had sent me something. Knowing his mail was always good for a laugh, I punched it up and read it eagerly.

"_Dear Sara,_

_Since you and the mighty G have tied the knot (without letting any of us know or inviting us to the ceremony, I might add – spur of the moment decision, my ass because we knew it was only a matter of time before you two would be heading to the alter even if you didn't– but I digress) and are soon approaching your one year anniversary, I thought it would be fun to see if you're keeping up with all of your wifely duties._

_Came across this while I was surfing the vast inter-web and immediately thought of you!_

_Let me know how you measure up. LOL!_

_Yours,_

_Greg (AKA Super Lab Rat Gone Feral)_

_PS...I don't hold grudges. If things don't work out with the bugman, you know who to call!_

_PPS...Don't tell Grissom I said that. He'll kick my ass!"_

I actually caught myself giggling out loud and eagerly clicked on the attachment. Within minutes I was laughing so hard, tears were streaming down my face.

It took me several minutes to pull myself together enough to type a response but when I was finally able to see the keyboard, I typed the following response:

"_Dear Greg,_

_I'm pleased to see that the editors of __Housekeeping Monthly__ wasted no time in publishing the article I submitted last week. Obviously they are as deeply committed to the preservation of the American Family Unit as I am and know, as I do, that each family unit needs to have a well-trained lapdog...excuse me...wife...installed in order to ensure its survival. That a marriage of equals, based on mutual affection and respect, has no place in today's modern society. That children are symbols of the husband's virility and strength and have little more purpose in life than to be the ornaments that decorate the castle heights from which he rules. And most importantly that society on a whole will collapse if a hot dinner is not waiting on the table for him the minute he walks through the door be it six o'clock in the evening or three o'clock in the morning._

_As my husband is as yet unaware that I have written and submitted this piece, I would appreciate your discretion in the matter. I wouldn't want him thinking that I took precious time away from my daily preparations for his home-coming and wasted them on something so frivolous as having an opinion of my own. A worry like that might have serious consequences. I would hate to add to the horrific stress of his day and cause him to stay out late drinking with his friends from work just so that he could relieve the extra burdens I've laid on him. _

_I trust you understand._

_Yours, _

_Mrs. Gilbert Grissom _

_PS...I certainly do know who to call...as you've signed each and every email the same way since you found out Gilbert and I were officially MR and MRS...and..._

_PPS...You're right. He would!"_

With a smirk for my smart-assed reply, I hit the send button and then hustled off to find Gil.

_Author's Note: So...I bet you're wondering what was in that article and you're just about to bite nails because I didn't tell you...and I'm infamous for cliff hangers...and secrets...well, don't worry, I'm not about to sign off on this one without delivering the goods! I've posted the article below. I really don't think I need another word of introduction. The article speaks for itself._

The Good Wife's Guide

From _Housekeeping Monthly_, 13 May, 1955.

Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready on time for his return. This is a way of letting him know that you have be thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they get home and the prospect of a good meal is part of the warm welcome needed.

Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you'll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your make-up, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh-looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people.

Be a little gay and a little more interesting for him. His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it.

Clear away the clutter. Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives. Run a dustcloth over the tables.

During the cooler months of the year you should prepare and light a fire for him to unwind by. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift too. After all, catering to his comfort will provide you with immense personal satisfaction.

Prepare the children. Take a few minutes to wash the childrens' hands and faces (if they are small), comb their hair and, if necessary, change their clothes. They are little treasures and he would like to see them playing the part.

Minimize all noise. At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of the washer, dryer or vacuum. Try to encourage the children to be quiet.

Be happy to see him. Greet him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him.

Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first - remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours.

Don't greet him with complaints and problems. Don't complain if he's late for dinner or even if he stays out all night. Count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through at work.

Make him comfortable. Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or lie him down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him.

Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice. Don't ask him questions about his actions or question his judgment or integrity.

Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him.

A good wife always knows her place.

_Good, now that we're clear on that, I'll say goodnight!_


	19. S is for Suitcase

S is for Suitcase

_They made up their minds_

_And they started packing…_

"I'm packing…oh yeah I'm almost done packing!" Giggle. "But I'll be damned if I'm folding!" Snort. I dropped a hefty pile of clothing into the first suitcase and zipped it tight. It was the last suitcase and I was in a mood to celebrate! And celebrating I was…

_They left before the sun came up that day…_

"Not hard to do in this world of endless night!" Gild was at the lab, packing equipment and data and I was at home, taking care of the domestic stuff. I felt good. Sooooo good. Too good? Probably time to ease up on the vino? Nah. I could hold my wine. Usually. Though I was definitely feeling a little light-headed.

_An exit to eternal summer slacking…_

"Hmm…could be taken two ways but the way I'm taking it means WE are taking an exit and will be doing some summer slacking in just under 24 hours!" I sniffed at my glass. What the hell was in this home-made vino? It had been a gift from one of the other researchers. His secret recipe, he'd said. Damn tasty. I poured out another bit, realized the bottle was empty and tossed it into the easy chair. "Twenty-four little measly hours!"

_But where were they going_

_Without ever knowing the way?_

"Well, I don't know about them but I know where we're going. Home, home, home!"

_They drank up the wine_

_And they got to talking…_

"Toasting their last god-forsaken night in this cold place…" I saluted the mp3 player with my third full glass of wine and a celebratory butt wiggle.

_They now had more important things to say…_

"Like, 'Vegas BABY'!"

_And when the car broke down_

_They started walking…_

"Not a car. A plane. Flying tin can. Crap. The plane will not crash and we will be fine. The plane will not crash and we will be fine. The plane…"

_Where were they going without ever knowing the way?_

"Pilot's done this route a thousand times. Plane will not crash!"

_Anyone could see_

_The road that they walk on is paved in gold…_

"In Las Vegas…"

_And it's always summer, they'll never get cold…_

"In Las Vegas…"

_They'll never get hungry_

_They'll never get old and gray…_

Snicker. "Well, I won't. I use really good hair dye!" Snort.

_You can see their shadows_

_Wandering off somewhere…_

"Not for a good solid year if hubby knows what's best for him, buster," I told the absentee singer.

_They won't make it home_

_But they really don't care…_

"Ok. Had me until that part."

_They wanted the highway_

_They're happy there today , today_

"No. Wrong. N-O. Home. GO-ing Home! This song is starting to get stupid. I don't think Im going to listen to any more." I plopped my wine glass down on the table and charged to where the player sat, made a swipe at it, missed, then grabbed it on the second attempt. "Where the hell is that 'off' button-"

_The children woke up_

_And they couldn't find 'em…_

"Shit. Told you they were at home. AT HOME. Stop singing. Ruin-Ruining my buzz! Where the heck-"

_They left before the sun came up that day…_

"-is the off switch!"

_They just drove off_

_And left it all behind 'em…_

"Shut up!"

_But where were they going without ever knowing-CRAckkkkkkk!_

"Ooops." I sighed and frowned. "Guess that shut you up."

No longer in the mood to sing, I debated my next move. I retrieved my half empty wine glass and stared down for a moment at the mangled piece of equipment that had once been a functioning music player before it had met the heel of my boot, and then, with another sigh, fished my phone from my pocket. A quick flick through the directory pulled up the number of the general store.

While I waited for the call to connect, I stealthily and meticulously scooted the debris of plastic and chips of metal under the edge of the sofa, making sure I got every last piece. "Hello, Elvie? This is Sara Sidle Grisshom. Ahem. Grissom. Good. Very good, thanks. Yes, I just-just finished packing. Yeah. Um, do you…you remember that mp3 player I picked up for G-Gil at Christmas? Last Christmas, for his Christmas present? For Christmas. It was a present for Gil. Yes, the little white one. Do you…Do you um, have another in stock? Gil's misplaced it. Ya. It's gone! Can't find the little bugger any-anywhere. Especially not under the sofa. It's…it's…just…gone. Yup. Vanished. Poof! Ya, what-what can you do? Husbands!"

A/N: "The Way" lyrics by Fastball


	20. T is for Tarantula

_**T is for Tarantula**_

"No."

"You're not being reasonable about this, Sara."

"No."

"So that's it? No discussion? No debate?"

"No."

"That's hardly fair. I expected better from you."

"Excuse me?"

"I thought you of all people would understand."

"Oh I think I understand the situation better than you're currently giving me credit for," I snapped back, not liking the direction this conversation was going or its tone.

_Smart husband_. He backed down and reconsidered whatever it retort he had planned to shoot back at me. "I thought you liked Hairy." The words were quiet but there was still an undercurrent of petulance to them.

I sighed and put down the magazine I'd been reading. "I do. He's a very nice spider. Nice colour. Very sweet."

"I know you're not afraid of him."

I nodded in agreement. "Under most circumstances, I'm not."

"You've held him. Fed him. You've taken care of him numerous times..."

"When I was at the lab, yes, I did all of those things."

"Well, then, I don't understand the problem."

"It's very simple, Gil. As much as I like your little friend, I'm afraid he's too much like his name sake for me to be comfortable sharing a house with him. You've said it yourself. Hairy Houdini is a very smart spider and aptly named. You've yet to find a cage that can contain him for any length of time and while we've all had to put up with his little disappearing acts at the lab, I'll be damned if I'm going to have him wandering around at will in our home." I turned back to my magazine and flipped a page. "Besides, he's comfortable at the lab. Nick's taken great care of him and he's sort of like the lab mascot. I think he'd be missed."

Gil snorted. "Ya, that's believable. Lab mascot." He leveled a finger at me and said very distinctly, "You girls have always had it in for him."

I snorted. "With good reason. Hairy's a little pervert!"

"He is not!"

"Really? Then why was it every time he escaped, he eventually turned up in the ladies' washroom, crawling up some woman's leg as she's trying to use the facilities?"

Gil's mouth did that fish thing as he sputtered, "Not every time-"

"Every single time."

"No, he was in Trace the last time...near the vent."

I laughed outright then. "Nice try. What facility shares the wall with Trace?" When he refused to answer, I did it for him. "The Ladies' washroom, right?"

He smirked. "Fine. I give." He settled back in his seat, his turn to sigh, his hand laying on mine gently and lacing our fingers. "I guess I just missed the little guy. I was looking forward to taking him home. Seeing everyone at the lab. Picking Bruno up from my cousin's house..." He grew quiet, his breathing slow and shallow.

His eyes were heavy on the back of my neck. I could feel him waiting...patiently waiting...for me acknowledge his gaze. I felt his will pushing mine to look up at him. And when that failed to reach me, when I continued to read, he began to play dirty. Lacing his fingers over top of mine gave his thumb access to my palm and he began rubbing the sensitive skin there. Circling gently, caressing, making my nerve endings tingle, he used his thumb to send shivers racing up and down my spine. "Gilbert Grissom, behave yourself," I scolded mockingly under my breath, trying not to giggle at his blatant attempt to get me to give in.

His face turned puppy and those beautiful, sparkling blue eyes of his widened innocently. "I'm just holding your hand, Sara. You act like I'm-" the rest of his sentence was whispered in my ear my breath caught in my throat, practically choking a laughing gasp out of me.

"Now who's not playing fair," I demanded, pulling my hand away and folding my arms at my chest. I could feel heat rising from my core and a blush spreading violently over my cheeks.

Gil's chuckle was evil and just a little self congratulatory. "Just my little way of apologizing for being such a pain about Hairy. I really want to make it up to you." He leaned in, his breath tickling my ear deliciously...deliberately...and whispered a few more suggestions on how he could go about putting me in a better mood. My jaw dropped and I pushed at his shoulder, toying with the idea of belting him for getting me so riled up and from the looks of him, my husband knew how hard I was fighting the impulse to sock him. It didn't slow him down one bit. "Gee, Sara, you're looking a little flushed. Was it something I said?"

Though I struggled against giving him the satisfaction, I squirmed in my seat. Being just as sneaky as he was being, I leaned in and called him a really nasty name in the sexiest voice I could manage, finishing with, "The answer is still 'no.'"

His eyebrows went up at that and deliberately placed a hand on my thigh. "No to the spider or..." he let his hand creep higher and higher with each word, mimicking a spider's moves, "...me?" His hand cupped me and I just about jumped out of the seat. I can't tell you how grateful I was that we were in the back of the plane and far enough away from our fellow passengers that Gil's little game went completely unnoticed.

I bit my lip...almost snarling, "Considering we're stuck together in this flying tin can for another six hours, I'd be real careful if I were you about writing cheques your butt can't cash."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, two can play this game you're playing, Dr. Grissom and while I might end up being just as uncomfortable as you, in the end, I'll still be able to walk out of her with almost no one the wiser. You on the other hand..." I returned his not so subtle crotch clutch and watched gleefully as his reaction matched mine and then some.

Snickering, he pulled back to his own side of the plane. "Kill joy," he sniped wickedly and winked at me.

I placed a hand on his forearm where it rested on the division between our seats. "No, quite the opposite. " I batted my lashes at him, playing him every bit as hard as he had me, as I rubbed against him. "Just trying to spread the joy around." I leaned in a little farther, wet my lips and then tapped them delicately with my index finger. Gil accepted the invitation with a speed that did lovely little things for my ego and I let him have my mouth for several satisfying seconds before reluctantly pulling away. With a shake of my head, bemoaning my weakness for my one and only, I said, "Okay, here's the deal. When we get home, I'll talk to Nick. See if our favorite arachnid has been behaving himself lately. If he has, we'll give the little guy a trial run."

"And if he hasn't?" Gil asked with suspicious innocence, making me wonder if he'd had a progress report from Nick that I wasn't aware of.

I shrugged. "Then you have a week or so to either buy or build a Houdini escape-proof habitat before bringing him into the condo or you and Nick can experiment in the lab and try at a later date. But know this, husband mine, the first time, and I mean the very first time, I wander into the bathroom and see his homely little face staring back at me from behind the toilet, that's it dude. Game over. And that goes for the snake, the lizard and the praying mantis too."

"Well, I've never had a problem with Larry, Moe and Curly."

"Which is why we haven't had to have a discussion like this one before now." I spread my hands wide, in a gesture that showed I was willing to compromise. " I'll respect their space as long as they respect mine. Bruno is the only creature with an all-access pass to our home."

He beamed at me. "Okay, I can work with that. Hairy will be on his best behavior."

"And for the rest of this flight, you'd better be too or I'll..." my voice dropped to a very intimate whisper and my husband's strangled groan reverberated around the cabin, making several heads turn in our direction.

"That's just cruel, Sara," he complained, albeit not as strongly as he might have if he hadn't fired the first shot in our little war.

"Yes," I agreed, going back to my magazine.

"Excuse me," he muttered and headed for the lavatory, stealing my magazine as he stood up to protect his...um...dignity.

Despite the fact that I knew without a doubt that Gil would convince me to follow through on every suggestion I'd just made, I settled back in my seat, shamelessly giggling at his plight. _Maybe he'd think twice the next time he tried to manipulate me with sex_, I thought and then shook my head. Now, where would be the fun in that?


	21. U is for Ubermensch

**_U is for Ubermensch_**

"Hey Sara!"

Looking up from the hostesses' podium, I saw Catherine, Jim, Nick and Greg waving from a booth in the corner of the restaurant. I waved back, saying to the hostess with the over-the-top welcoming smile, "I see my party is already seated. I'm going to join them but my husband will be coming in as soon as he parks."

"Not to worry," she chirped merrily, "I'll send him right along."

"Thanks." I shifted my purse a little higher on my shoulder and strode across the room, anxious to see everyone. There were hugs and smiles and chuckles as I made the rounds of greetings, before taking my seat. I slipped my sunglasses off my nose, blinking a couple of times as my eyes adjusted, ready to enjoy the next couple hours catching up with my former lab mates. A low whistle had me looking up at Nick. "What?" I asked, noticing the way he and the others were staring at my face.

"You, Sunshine, have got a serious case of the bags!" Nick replied, not pulling any punches. "Jet lag?"

I shook my head but before I could respond, another round of waves started as Gil made his way to the table. Of course this sparked off more laughter and happy greetings and it wasn't until Gil took his seat that our conversation resumed.

"Looks like Gil has a matching set of luggage," Jim chimed in with an elbow jab to Nick's ribs.

When Gil sent me a puzzled look, I gestured to the dark circles under my eyes. He nodded in instant understanding. "I suppose we look a little worse for wear."

"And Sara says it's not jet lag," Catherine replied, a compassionate hand patting mine even as she grinned at Gil's droll understatement.

"No," I sighed, picking up a menu and looking through it. "At first, that's what we assumed but now, I'm pretty sure it's just our internal clocks messing with us."

"Meaning?"

Gil shrugged. "I don't think either of us has managed more than a couple hours consecutive sleep since we landed."

"But you guys got back almost two weeks ago," Greg protested, and then shot a wry smile in my direction. "If it was just Sara, I wouldn't be all that surprised. I think she still holds the record for the most consecutive hours at the lab without sleep-"

"I did," I interrupted, "but Hodges told me he broke that last month."

"Bullshit. Hodges is such a tool," Greg said with a grunt. "And I told him that when he was bragging and these guys backed me up." His thumb jerked to our companions.

"You're still the queen at sixty-nine hours straight -and still functioning- in the lab," Jim said with a wink. "Hmm. Think I'll have the steak."

"Sixty-nine?!" Gil demanded. "When the hell was this?"

I rolled my eyes. "Not on your watch, Dr. Grissom," I assured him and went back to the menu. When he continued to stare at me, I said softly, "You were at Williams." He did look away then, the mention of his sabbatical and the callous way he'd gone about taking a necessary break from the lab still not exactly an easy point with either of us. "And don't look at me that way, Jim."

"I thought you told him," Jim protested, with a mild glare.

"I did," I said, refusing to meet his eyes. "I told Gil I'd put in some extra time at the lab."

"Yes," said Gil, "she did. She just failed to mention it was all in the space of a couple of days."

"Well, that was the longest stretch," Greg said with an evil chuckle. "But you were gone for a couple of months. I'm not sure anyone knows for certain how many hours Sara spent at the lab while you were gone."

"Hell, that 'sixty-nine hours' is just an estimate. That's all we could get her to admit to when we cornered her but there were a couple of us questioning whether or not the total was even higher. We just couldn't prove it."

"Thanks, Nick. I'm fortunate to have you here to keep track of these things." My snarling lip had little effect on his shit-eating grin.

"Anytime, Sunshine. Anytime. Hey, that steak does look good."

I cleared my throat, determined to pull this conversation back to where it belonged. "Regardless, this current bought of insomnia has nothing to do with work and everything to do with the fact that we've been in the land of eternal night for so long our bodies have declared war on the very idea of sleep. The minute the sun hits the sky, we're done and because we had to train ourselves to work in darkness for so long..." I shrugged. "The hotel's curtains are useless. I doubt we'd be having this much trouble at the condo but until Gil's tenant moves out at the end of this week, we're trying to make do." We'd sublet our townhome to a visiting professor from Gil's old Alma Mater while we were in the arctic. I'd thought it might be fun to spend a week in a luxury hotel before we settled back into our normal routine but didn't count on the sleep difficulties. "We've put up blankets over top of the curtains, but it's still not enough. And it's a hassle. Room service keeps taking them down no matter how many notes I leave." I spied a nice zucchini loaf and dinner-sized quinoa salad and my mouth watered at the selection on the third page into the menu. "Okay. I know what I want," I declared and Catherine leaned over to check out what I'd chosen.

"While that does look good, I'm going to go with the guys. I can't remember the last time I had a good steak." Catherine snapped her menu closed and leaned towards Gil. "So you're just going to let this play out?"

"That's her plan," Gil said, with a head tilt in my direction, and a tiny little snort to boot.

A grouchy husband was a sarcastic husband! Jeesh! I smiled sweetly at him and addressed the table at large. "As has been clearly pointed out, I'm used to long stretches of no sleep. When my body has had enough, it'll crash and I'll slowly ease back into a more normal pattern of sleep. In the meantime, I'm keeping a careful eye on my protein levels and making sure I get my yoga time in every day. I'm not working right now, so I sleep when my body tells me to rest and just deal. And what's more," I added evilly, "I can do it with a smile."

Though the rest of the table dissolved into varied snorts and guffaws, Gil eyebrows rose at the challenge in my words but wisely, he said nothing. I was baiting him and we both knew it. While it's true that I'd been a little short tempered at times, this sleep issue had really brought out a snarky side of Gil's personality that I'd rarely witnessed before. I suppose I was due. I'm sure I've given Gil four times as much attitude as he'd given me in our long, long association. Still, it was as interesting as it was fascinating watching your usually unflappable husband have a shouting match with the alarm clock for failing to operate as it should have. Fighting psychotically with inanimate objects is usually my territory. It's even more so to watch him berate the umpire on a televised baseball game for making an unfair call against his beloved Cubs. Okay, so maybe that wasn't so unusual for a die-hard sports fan...but this game was off one of his classic games discs...one he'd seen a couple of times over. I shook my head, smiling a little at the memory. The outcome was hardly going to change with repeated watching...or derogatory couch potato coaching!

"So what's your plan, oh mighty Grissom?"

Gil's lips twitched but I wasn't sure if it was annoyance or humour causing the reaction. "I'm going to take a more regimented approach, Greg." It was his turn to close the menu. "I'm going with the seafood linguini."

"Great minds, Griss!" Greg nodded, obviously having chosen the same. "I've had the linguini here before. It's really, really good." There was a beat. "Not sure how it's going to solve your sleep problem, though. Maybe if you eat enough of it..."

"So are you going to tell us your-?" Catherine started to ask, but was interrupted by the waiter who came to take our orders. It took a few minutes for him to make the rounds and coordinate side dishes with our entrees so Catherine was forced to wait for her answer but the minute the charming 'Jack' took off for the kitchen with our order she prodded, "Right. So. Master Plan, Dr. Grissom?"

"He's going to screw up his system even farther –and mine along with it-in hopes of getting a paper out of the process," I said mildly. "Isn't that right, dear?" More husband-baiting, but what the hell. Had to get my shots in while I could. Sleep deprivation was messing with my sarcasm button. I wasn't as quick on the draw as I usually was.

"What was that you were saying earlier, dear, about how you were facing this sleep issue with a smile?" His tone was every bit as mild as mine but this time his face was clearly amused.

"I sense a little dissension in the ranks," Nick crowed, jabbing a finger between us accusingly. "You two are still supposed to be in honeymoon phase. Play nice."

I leaned forward, steepling my fingers and pinned Nick with the Sara Sidle Grissom signature glare of death. "Tell you what, you sleep in the same bed with MR. UBERMENSCH here for a week and we'll see how 'honeymoonish' you feel." The whole table went up...laughing uproariously at my inadvertent double entendre. "Okay, no, wait, that didn't come out right." I cleared my throat. "Look, I love sleeping with my husband. I do. I just wish I actually_ got _to _sleep_ with him." There was another round of laughter at my expense and I raised my hands in surrender. "I give up. I am wayyyyy to tired to try to dig my way out of that one."

Greg was enthusiastically tapping on his smartphone. "Ubermensch? Ubermensch...oh, here it is." He frowned at the screen. "'A person with great powers and abilities...demigod! Superman! Leader!'" His ears turned a little pink. "Geez. I didn't know Grissom was that good in bed. Explains a lot, Sara!"

I just barely caught the four letter word before it shot out of my mouth.

Jim's ears turned red.

"You've been holding out on me," Catherine howled, slapping me in the arm. "We've got to do coffee...just us girls...and catch up!"

Jim's ears turned redder.

Nick was incapable of speech (the jackass!) He was laughing so hard, totally reduced to hissing by this point and Jim...well, Jim had a really silly grin on his face but decided to keep his own counsel...thank god.

As for Gil, you'd think he'd either be a little embarrassed or insulted but no, he took the teasing graciously replying, "Yes, Greg, I'm that good." Then he puffed out his chest, slung an arm over my shoulder and leered at me salaciously.

Nick almost fell out of his chair.

Half groaning, half giggling, I leaned into his embrace, linking our fingers. "'Ubermensch Sleep Cycle', Greg. Type in 'Ubermensch Sleep Cycle.'"

"That's that strange forced nap thing, isn't it?" Jim asked, and after receiving a nod from Gil, continued. "Yeah, I've heard of that. The Army has experimented with that on more than one occasion when trying to develop super soldiers."

"Experimented and failed," I said, cheerfully.

"Many countries have done studies...armed forces, space programs...researchers," Gil said, ignoring me completely, just as our food was delivered to our table. "There are some that would argue that it's a much more natural sleep pattern for humans than the one we've adopted."

"And there are many that believe it's a most unnatural state of being," I put in as I topped my salad with the house vinaigrette. "Which means, I might get a paper out of this too. Providing I survive the process." I moaned at the delicious flavors that erupted in my mouth after my first bite of food. Fresh produce had become somewhat an obsession of mine since we'd landed back in the states. Having so many choices readily available after the restrictions we'd had in the arctic had turned me into a bit of a fanatic. I just couldn't get enough! So enraptured was I by my selection it took me a second to clue into the fact that Catherine was still talking.

"How does his sleep pattern affect you?" Catherine asked me, cutting into her perfectly cooked steak.

I chewed, considering carefully how much I should reveal at this point because really, I wasn't sure how much of my private demons I wanted to lay on the table. I figured I should reply with as little detail as possible. "As I said, my sleep patterns are sometimes a little erratic-"

Gil's snort, followed by a sympathetic pat on my hand, cut into my explanation but I kept rolling.

"-so I'm used to letting my body dictate what it needs. Whenever possible I let it follow as natural a pattern as I can. No alarms. No pressure to get up. No pressure to sleep. Which is fine as long as I can sleep and stay asleep when my body feels the need. On this Ubermensch Cycle, Gil tries to regulate his sleep patterns to six, evenly spaced, twenty minute naps per day. It works well enough I suppose during my 'day' cycle because I just ignore him and try to make as little noise as possible, but his alarm goes off a couple of times during my 'night' cycle and what little sleep I manage to get is interrupted completely." My lips curl. "The first couple of days weren't so bad because, hey, I wasn't sleeping anyway, but I'm in the crash and burn part of my cycle and since I'm a really light sleeper, I'm not getting any rest at all." I frown into my plate. "If we were at home, I'd seriously consider using the guest room, but that's not really something I want to do. It would be almost as bad as when we were on different shifts at the lab and I had my fill of that then."

"Well, if it's that bad I'm surprised he's continuing," Catherine said, softly. "I'm surprised that he's determined to follow this regime and I'm even more surprised that you're letting him." There was no teasing now at all in her voice, just a gentle probe, and possibly a little concern for her friends' relationship too.

"Well, I figure I owe him." There was a gentle squeeze on my hand this time, and I didn't need his words to tell me that we weren't keeping count, but fair was fair. How many times had his arms been there for me when nightmares struck or work just got to be too much? How many times had his arms anchored me when I felt I was drowning? "Besides, I don't see this lasting too much longer."

Gil smirked. "There's a hundred bucks on the line. I'm seeing this through to the end."

I smirked right back. "Ha. The end is closer than you think, Bug Dude." Gil might be one of the smartest men I knew but he'd failed to factor in some vital information that would soon make itself known when we finally moved back to the condo. This sleep cycle nonsense would come to an abrupt halt within our first nights home or I'd eat my shirt.

"Money? Bet? I want in, Griss-man!" Greg pounced on that tidbit of information with superhuman speed.

"Like that's a surprise," Jim spat. "You'll bet on anything that moves. Or in this case...doesn't?"

Greg was not to be put off. "The terms, man. I need the terms!"

Gil looked at me, to see if I had any objections, and I shrugged, not really caring either way if he let Greg in our action. "Pretty simple terms, Greg."

"Hmmm...yes. Very. If Gil's theory is correct and this Ubermensch experiment is his body's natural state of being it should be no trouble at all for him to follow the new sleep schedule till the end of the month. If he makes it the thirty days, I owe him a trial period with Houdini and one hundred dollars."

While Catherine's nose scrunched in distaste at the mention of Houdini (Grissom's pet tarantula), the guys didn't bat an eye. Mind you, none of them had ever had to deal with the damn thing crawling up your leg while you were on the toilet, so that was hardly surprising.

"And if he fails?" Nick asked.

Gil fielded that one. "Well, if I can't make it the thirty days, Sara is one hundred dollars richer and we get...a cat."

Now it was the guys' turn to flinch. Catherine and I rolled our eyes at their antics. "What?" I demanded. "We already have a dog and I'd sure as hell prefer a kitten rubbing up against my legs than that perverted arachnid."

Knowing Houdini's penchant for escaping whatever caging had been rigged for him, the others had to agree with my sentiment if not my choice of pet. Still it was no surprise that Nick, Greg and Jim decided to take Gil's side of the bet while Catherine took mine. Conversation turned to other topics until two and half hours later we parted company, satiated and in agreement to meet at the end of the month for dinner and the results.

**_Two and half weeks later..._**

This time, it was our turn to be the early ones as we waited for our friends to show. Not that we'd had long to wait. Though they'd come separately, Greg, Nick, Jim and Catherine arrived within minutes of each other and as soon as drinks were ordered, the subject of the bet was brought up.

Not one to beat around the bush, Greg pinned us with a manic stare and demanded, "Well?"

"Sara won," Gil stated simply, his shrug casual, his smile easy.

Expecting more of an explanation, or at the very least, some gloating or bragging on my end, the others peppered us with questions but as neither Gil nor I were interested in sharing the full details, we stuck to the answers we'd prepared for them.

"It simply wasn't practical," Gil said placidly. "I mean, if I was a single man, with no one to answer to but myself, then maybe I might have pursued it, but..." he trailed off with another casual shrug, his arm slipping around my shoulder, and leaning into me subtly.

I let my head fall against his shoulder without bothering to add to his comment, a tiny smile gracing my lips.

"And that's it?" Catherine sounded so let down that I almost laughed.

"Yes, that's it," I replied, careful not to sound as smug as I felt. Any such behavior on my part would negate the terms of surrender Gil and I had...ahem…hammered out a mere three nights after we were back in our condo. Though it was true I had won the bet, my victory wasn't completely uncontested. In fact, if one were to convince my husband to answer truthfully, he would state unequivocally that he believes I cheated. Or at the very least that he was coerced into conceding. I, of course, would be forced to disagree...

**_Eleven days earlier..._**

Lips pursed, I swiped a hairbrush through my hair, battling my curls determinedly until they fell in glossy waves over my shoulders. Eying myself critically in the mirror, I did a quick inventory to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything. My skin glowed from the facial I'd given myself. My manicure was elegant and subtle. Soft tendrils of Gil's favorite scent slicked my pulse points. A little mascara to make my eyes look sultry. The tiniest bit of lip gloss to make my lips look dewy. Hmmmm. Wasn't perfect but physically, I was as good as I was going to get.

I reached for the paper shopping bag and pulled out the teddy I'd purchased during one of Gil's nap cycles earlier that day and couldn't help grinning evilly as I slipped it on and took in the total effect of hours of planning. Clever scraps of lace and silk settled against my skin, revealing as much as they hid. The champagne confection was worth every penny that I'd paid in the over-priced, snooty boutique that Gil favored for those times he was feeling frisky.

Was I playing dirty? Possibly. But in my defense, we hadn't put any restrictions on the bet we had going so…

Did I feel guilty about what I was about to do? No, not at all. I'd put up with twelve nights of this Ubermensch BS and I was done with it. I'd hoped that after we'd moved back into the condo, Gil would get the clue that this thing was really starting to upset me, but he hadn't. It was time for drastic measures.

Tonight, things were going to change, one way or the other. Either Gil was going to give up or I was going to move to the guest room and enjoy a few uninterrupted hours of sleep. I shook my head. Hard to say which option interested me more at present but I was willing to let Gil be the deciding vote.

I checked my watch. The time had come. Gil wasn't going to know what hit him.

Feeling much like a general walking onto a battlefield, I grasped the handle to the door of the bathroom and made my entrance. Gil was in bed, reading, his glasses on the bridge of his nose, looking every bit the sexy scientist I fell in love with so many years ago. He was due for another of his power naps and he'd dropped a few hints earlier in that day that he'd thought it might be fun, if I was up for it, to "test his stamina" after his rest. Seeing as that fit right into my plans, I'd agreed…to the spirit of his suggestion, if not the precise timing.

So…okay, acting is not my strong suit but I think I did a pretty credible moan of dismay as I walked up to the edge of the bed and propped a hand on my hip. "Damn."

He didn't look up at me, seemed pretty caught up in the article he was reading, but he did ask, "What?" when I failed to continue.

"I thought I'd timed my bath better."

He frowned, still reading. "What do you mean?"

"You haven't napped yet, have you?"

"No," he said absently, "I'm just about to. Why?"

I cleared my throat.

Gil looked up at me and stared, his eyes heating as they took in my figure, what I was 'wearing' and the teasing glint in my eye. Then he swallowed…hard…and his gaze raked my figure a second time before he said, "Sara."

There was a world of emotion in that tiny, raspy sound and I shivered sweetly in pure anticipation. I fingered the edge of the high cut teddy, my finger barely skimming the line of my hip. "I went shopping."

"Yes. I see that." His voice was melted chocolate. His words more breath than form.

"I wanted something special, you know, to celebrate being home."

He nodded, his attention on my finger as I drew it up my side, across the swell of my breast, and to my shoulder on the pretense of adjusting my strap. "It's nice. Very…um…nice."

_Nice?_ I almost snorted. It was a damn sight better than _nice_ and we both knew it. This from the man with a renaissance vocabulary? Humph. I wasn't settling for 'nice'. "You don't think it's a little much?"

"NO." Even he winced at the volume of his response. The dog actually barked. "I mean, no, it's…it's…you look really…you look great, Sara." This was said at a much more level tone and the dog went back to snoozing on his pillow but there was a faint line of sweat beading on his upper lip. He struggled for a moment as if searching for something more but finally settled on, "Beautiful."

MMMmmm. Much better.

"Thank you," I said, a little breathless myself from his response. It really did wonders for my ego when he focused so completely on me. I leaned on the side of the bed, both palms flat on the mattress, my 'attributes' perfectly displayed. "Money well spent, I'd say." I leaned a little closer with each word, stopping just short of touching my lips to his. "Too bad we won't be able to take advantage of it." My eyebrow raised and I pulled back, very slowly. "At least not tonight."

It took a moment for my words to register but when they did…

"Wait! What?" he sputtered, his hand reaching for mine just a second too late and missing.

"Sorry, honey," I said, in genuine disappointment as I wasn't sure if even after all this preparation he'd really give up on his experiment. "As I said, my timing is off. I'd planned this whole thing around your schedule but…" I shrugged and grabbed a pillow from my side of the bed. "I was trying to…well, I'm not sure waiting the twenty minutes for your nap and the um…half hour or so you generally need to pull yourself together after said nap will work to…um…you know…set the mood I had planned." I hugged the pillow to my chest, deliberately shielding my body to his gaze, my smile pleasant but challenging. "And I wouldn't want to interfere with your schedule."

He was quick. I'll give him credit for how rapidly his mind followed the trail of breadcrumbs I'd laid. His eyes widened. The corners of his eyes crinkling as his lips twitched in reluctant admiration. "Sara…Isobel…Sidle…Grissom-"

"Maybe tomorrow night will work out better." I took a backward step towards the hallway door my grin widening as he shook his head at me.

"I don't think so. Let's finish this out."

"Tomorrow's soon enough," I assured him, backing away another step.

He rose from the bed. "Winning this bet means so much to you that you'd cheat?"

I laughed outright and threw my pillow at his chest…wickedly hard. "Bet, schmet! I spent more money on this gown than I'd lose on that damn bet. I just thought you'd be reasonable and would have given up this nonsense by now." I tossed my hair back. "I want us back on the same schedule and sleeping in the same bed."

He'd swiped at the pillow I'd thrown and made his way around to my side of the bed by now, enjoying our little byplay. "We have been sleeping in the same bed," he protested, still amused.

"No, we've been occupying the same bed. It's not the same thing and it's not going to continue to be the status quo," I replied seriously, feeling precious little amusement as we'd made it to the point of my little scene.

A little taken aback by my abrupt response. "Is that a threat, dear?"

"No, it's a promise, dear. I've had about as much as I can handle with your three am alarms and your wandering around the house at night. If there was a serious reason behind such things, I'd smile and cope and that would be that but there isn't and I decided it was time I cleared the air about how I feel. We've finally got to a place in our marriage where one of us isn't on night shift and one of us isn't waking up from nightmares every second night and you want to mess with it?" I made a rude sound and grabbed my pillow off the floor. "I feel that everything in our lives lately is being determined by your alarm clocks, right down to our sex life. Maybe you can make love on a schedule but I'm not wired that way. I think I could live with everything else but I'm not willing to sacrifice our intimate moments for the sake of science. It took us too long to get to this point and whatever remaining time we are blessed to be given should be looked at as a gift. So…it's either sleep in the other room and we'll put our personal lives on hold for now or you give up your experiment and we exhaust some other…more enjoyable…methods of regulating our sleep schedule. You can't have it both ways, but I'll leave the choice in your hands." I began to stride for the door but paused at the entrance to demand, "And how is _wanting_ to have sex with my husband cheating?"

He opened his mouth, paused briefly as he shot me a wary look, then asked, "Finished?"

"For now," I said evenly.

"Okay, just checking." He scoped the bedroom, the bath and finally me. "You put a lot of work into this."

"A bit."

"The new negligee was a nice touch."

"Yep." I gave a little twirl. "It took me over an hour to find just the right one."

He gave a low whistle. "You…shopping…two hours in a mall on a Saturday. You're really upset."

"Well…I'm a little better now than I was last night." When he didn't respond, I elaborated, "It was that, "scheduling sex around your alarm schedule that really pissed me off. I was managing okay until you said that."

"I guess that was a little insensitive." His grin was both apologetic and devilish. "I figured that would do it."

My jaw dropped. My brain ground to a halt and then went flying full steam ahead. "You-you jerk! You absolute, undeniable, infuriating jerk! You set me up!"

He shrugged. "Ya but it sort of back-fired."

"How so?"

"You were supposed to have blown up last night. I fully expected you to lay down an ultimatum right there and then, conceding the bet and storming off. I sure as hell didn't expect you to agree."

"Right. Okay. Just for that, not only will you give in gracefully but you will pay me in full before we make one step toward that bed."

"And in exchange," he said, moving into my space and tracing the neckline of my gown, "the details of our little cease fire are to be kept between us. No gloating. No victory dance."

I slid my tongue along the line of his jaw. "Spoilsport. I'm not sure I'm getting the best deal here."

He wrapped me close, his hands exploring farther. "Don't worry, I'll make it up to you."


End file.
